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      Help contribute, donate via PayPal or join with a monthly Patreon contribution.   01/01/17

      To help raise funds I've introduced a monthly contribution option called Pateron. This service allows you to pledge a monthly contribution plus allows me to offer you some rewards for your contribution. If you have any questions you may PM me. If you'd like to make that contribution please click on the image below:      
    • CMiller

      NEWS: Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!   08/19/17

      Hello everyone I'm back with a couple big updates! Firstly we now have a Discord server, this is a real-time chat messaging client you can run on your phone, desktop, or anywhere. It's a pretty powerful desktop application that enables people to chat together, and with multiple channels you can find people interested in what you're interested in. If you don't already have a Discord account it's pretty easy to get one, just click the following invite link to get started: https://discord.gg/Ahzu9jC Secondly I'm proud to announce the return of Groups, it's been renamed to Clubs and is now available here: https://muscle-growth.org/clubs/. This system is entirely user generated and allows users to create groups of their own based on any subject they want. Go ahead and try it now, visit the link above to get started if you want to create or join a group!   As always thank you to all of our donators and Patreon contributors who keep the forums going! 

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  1. Worship me bigger

    6 months in to the gym and I was doing pretty well, I went from being a complete twig - and I mean a twig to someone who at least could flex their arm and a ball of muscle would appear, but I was plateauing. I was eating 4000 calories a day which worked well at the start but now all that was doing was maintaining what I had already and I was struggling to eat any more. I was chuffed with looking like I had something but I always wanted so much more. I was out during the week, local gay bar with some pals, wearing a muscle t - OK I wasn't big big, but I wanted to show off what I had and I'm a decent enough looking guy, the night went on though and no one was really peaking interest, well, no one was peaking my interest who would give me the time of day. "Rum and coke please" I said to the barman. "Can I get that for you?". I turned around and there was this young twink. I didn't used to be in to twinks but since I had bulked up a bit, I enjoyed the size difference, made me feel bigger than I was. And not to mention. This guy was pretty cute. "Go on then" I said back, grateful at least that someone half decent was taking an interest. "That t-shirt looks great on you by the way!" - Score! I thought to myself, it's always a risk a muscle t, if you aren't muscled you can look stupid. "Thanks man, compliments and a drink, where have you been all night?" We actually got on pretty well, chatting away, I noticed he kept looking at my chest and arms, it felt good and eventually I said. "Want to come back to mine? For a night cap?" "Oh really?" He cried. "Yea man sounds great!" "Come on then!" We got back to mine shortly after and one drink later, we were making out on the couch. I could feel him rubbing his hands all over my body, squeezing my chest, feeling my biceps. Not feeling my abs because sadly when bulking, it's hard to maintain abs, but he seemed to be enjoying it. "Can I ask you something? I don't know if you'll be in to it..." he said, breaking away from me" "Yea, go one.." I said sceptically. I hope he's not in to like urine or something. "Would you take your top off and flex for me. You just have such an amazing body!" This caught me by surprise. I'd always wanted to be worshipped, but it was usually the really big guys that got worshipped, my mediocre biceps didn't usually draw THAT kind of attention. "Yea, sure" I said, smiling "Really!" he cried, looking excited. I took my top off and posed. It felt a bit embarrassing at first, I didn't think I was big enough to be doing this poses, but he loved it. Soon I got in to it, he ran his hands over my flexed biceps, I flexed my chest. He loved the chest and I loved that he loved it. Then I felt it, I was getting so turned on by this. I am a big guy, he knows it, I know it. I could feel a warmth running through my body, through my muscles. My flexed arm looked bigger than it had before. Maybe I wasn't giving myself enough credit before. Couldn't think about that now, it was time to show this little guy what these muscles could do. The next morning we woke up, he looked even more twink like today. "Woah!" he said when he woke. "I don't think you were this big last night, or I was drinking too much" "Haha, you really were getting in to the muscles weren't you!" I flexed for him again and he rubbed his hands over it, taking it all in and that warm feeling spread through me again. "Careful," I said. "You're getting me turned on again and I'm already running late for work." "You sure you can't call in late?" he asked, pleadingly. Man he looked so cute but I'm not that type of guy who just calls in sick. "Nah, sorry. I really do have to make a move but let's definitely meet again, for round 2!" "I'd like that," he said. He got ready surprisingly fast, brownie points that he didn't just hang around unnecessarily and then we were saying goodbye at the door. "How would you like one more flex before you go?" I said looking down at him, he definitely seemed smaller than last night. "Yea go on!" he laughed. Running his hands over my chest, shoulders, back. I felt a warm glow go through me for the third time and felt amazing. This guy was certainly giving me an ego boost. We kissed goodbye and I went in to the bathroom to start getting ready, that's when I actually caught my reflection in the mirror - I looked good. At first I was thanking the guy for giving me an ego boost and making me feel better about my size but as I looked closer, it wasn't just my ego. I was bigger. I flexed, for myself this time and my bicep looked a few inches larger, my shoulders were more defined and my chest was certainly rounder. I think I looked slightly taller too. What was going on? I wasn't complaining, I looked great, but people don't grow that fast! I thought back to last night, thinking about him, did he do something to me. Then I remembered that feeling when he was worshipping me, every time he did it, I felt bigger, more confident, what if I actually was bigger each time. Well, there's only one way to find out. Time for round 2! To be continued.....
  2. A Couple of Hunks

    (Note, like a lot of my stories, the people in this are based on real people, at least in the beginning. I adjusting names and certain details to make the story more interesting, but I need to give credit where it is due. Let me know what you all think) Stewart and Henry were a married couple. Fortunately for me, their relationship was open, and they enjoyed inviting other guys to play with them. I was only an Italian-American college grad 20 something, kinda lanky, curly-haired and gangly, but 6'2" tall. While I'd been fascinated by twinks in high school and athletes in college, something about the settled, strong, somewhat chubby bodies and easy demeanor of Stewart and Henry drew me. Stewart was Irish-Scottish-American, and worked in some sort of number crunching company. He had bright, twinkling hazel eyes and buzzed hair and a round baby face with a boyish grin and stubble on his lips and chin. He was only about 5'7" tall, but he had a 7 inch long, thin dick that loved attention. His body was also nicely hairy all over, but his fair skin was marred by eczema, and though he said it was about the best it had ever been, he really loved it when I massaged him with the lotion to sooth his discomfort. I admit I was initially surprised, but once he explained the condition and I saw how much he loved being touched I thought of him as a lovable teddy bear, and several times I drove over to their townhouse just to massage him while he watched TV. Stewart's hairy body was fun to touch and play with, and he was very sensual. After a lifetime of being unable to touch anyone for fear of being seen as too gay, I loved caressing him. Stewart was also the more openly horny and the one who was more talkative, and it was he who initially invited me over when we were chatting on Adam4Adam. He liked trashy tv shows and dramas, and he also liked me. Henry was Cambodian-American, and worked as a manager for a mental health company. He had taken his husband's last name, and I was a bit in awe of him. He stood a bit taller than his husband at 5'11" and his body, though soft and smooth, was somewhat stronger from helping the orderlies care for patients. His dark brown eyes seemed to look deep, and he didn't talk much, but he would chat with me on facebook when his busy schedule allowed, and he was always polite and gentle. His skin was a rich bronze, and mostly smooth, except around his loins. His hair was longer than his husband, but only enough to flop neatly on his head, though he sometimes buzzed the sides and back. His dick was thicker than Stewart's, and its shape was sexier, too. Where Stewart got off quickly, Henry liked to take his time with me, both of us cuddling and caressing each other, stroking and sucking and and holding each other as we came, and then cuddling and making out afterwards. Sometimes, while Stewart would get off early and go clean up, Henry and I would spend longer and longer periods in bed, making out and exploring each other's bodies. I admit, if I found Stewart cute and playful and fun to take care of, I yearned for time spent with Henry. He was usually busy, though, and so I became more a friend to Stewart than a friend with benefits to both of them. One evening, though, Henry was working on something while Stewart and I reclined on the couch with his lotion, and while burly Cambodian was usually silent when he had a project, tonight he seemed especially focused on his laptop and some odd device, which looked like a combination of a tablet and a stereo and a whisk. "What's going on," I asked in a whisper to Stewart, who shrugged, and murmured back, "Some sort of mental health psychosomatic reinforcement subliminal message projector thing... there've been a few rowdy patients at Henry's job lately, and he's been trying to invent something to help them make breakthroughs, lower addiction symptoms, etc... doesn't seem to be working too well, if his temper is any indication. Poor guy has been beating himself up over trying to make it work, but I think his coworkers have written it off as a lost cause already. But the good news is he's made some progress on other stuff. He found a new experimental skin cream for me... it's supposed to work wonders... want to try it out?" I smiled. Stewart is cute when he wants something, though his condition can't be comfortable. "Sure thing... but let me wash my hands first... maybe make your husband take a break and start you on it," I reply as I get up, go to the restroom, and, out of habit, close and lock the door. It's not that I'd mind if either of them barged in on me if I was doing things far more private than washing hands, but it's just one of my quirks. Through the door, I heard the following: "Henry, hon, could you at least get me started before Mikey gets back?" "Ugh... I'll need to wash my hands afterwards if I'm going to be working on this piece of junk, but yeah, I could use a break, babe. I swear it is picking up kinky porn channels or something instead of projecting anything. If I could just find the right medium, I'm sure it'd work. Even now it is just loading." "You'll get it right eventually, hon." "Thanks babe. Oof... this jar is sealed tight." "C'mon, big guy, you're really strong... you can open it." "Grrr... I'll show you strong, sexy... finally!" I heard Stewart's mild, teasing applause, then, a moment later, "Ooo... thanks... that feels good, hon." "Yeah, it is nice and smooth... kinda tingly, though, mayb-" Henry was interrupted by a sudden electronic hum, which continued for several minutes. I was a little unnerved by their sudden silence, turned the sink off, and called out, "Guys, you ok?" In unison, both Stewart and Henry nearly moaned, "We ok," their voices sounding strangely flat over the continuing mechanical buzz. I finished drying my hands, opened the door and stood there in shock. Stewart and Henry were frozen in place, the new skin cream smeared over Henry's hands and Stewart's belly. But the skin cream was glowing with a strange golden light, and both men's expressions were blank. It was like they were awaiting something. At the same time, the device Henry had been working on was vibrating, the whisk-part shaking as electric arcs danced between the metal frame. I went over to examine the screen and saw the following message: Medium for personality and physiology alteration found. Connection made... suggestion waves interfacing with subject(s) physiology. Subject 2 has dermal errors... Medium can make repairs with heightened stimulation. Authorize? Y/N? I thought for a moment. Should I do this? Would it really help Stewart's skin? What if it made things worse? How long would this effect last? I took a deep breath, and typed "Y" The device flashed, and the gel flowed over Stewart, coating him entirely. I rushed over to try and pull it off his face, but in a moment, it seemed to have sunk into his skin, save for a few globs in the jar and on Henry's hands. But Stewart started to moan and lean back out of his husband's touch, running his hands over his body and writhing in what looked like pleasure on the couch. "Yeah... oh baby, yeah, yeah, I've never felt this good... fuck yeah!" he cried out. He opened his eyes and locked them with mine. "Mikey, fuck me, please fuck me, I need to get fucked! Fffffuck!" he growled out and yanked off his shirt, exposing his shoulders. I thought for a brief moment that he had snapped out of his earlier trance, but his eyes, though heavy lidded and sex-driven, were still unfocused. I noticed, though, that his skin seemed slightly more clear than before. I made up my mind. "Ok Stewart, I'll fuck you... pants off," I command, pulling off my clothes as I spoke. Something about Stewart seemed stronger, more alluring. No more the cute, sympathetic pup, now, physically tearing his pants and briefs off his legs and revealing a surprising bulge, long and slim and hardening. His neck and arms and chest all seemed thicker, more fire plug powerful, but he also seemed an inch taller. "Fuck yeah, Mikey! Only it's Stu, fuck, not Stewart. Stewart's a dweeb's name, and I'm... fuck... I'm all man." He really was changing before my eyes. His neck was thicker, and his biceps were flexing as he growled and cursed. I was surprised to see a tribal tattoo forming on his arms and shoulders, and his hair seemed to be reshaping into a military high and tight. His facial stubble was thickening. As I positioned myself, I noticed that Henry was still frozen in place, his eyes locked on the empty air where Stewart... Stu... had been when they first froze. But his pants are noticeably bulging, as if he can sense what is going on and can't help but be aroused. I took a deep breath, and slid into... Stu's hole. He felt tight, and he was flexing, his bulky body showing hard muscle underneath a daddylike meat. His cock flopped onto his gut, which was starting to show roid-abs, and he moaned loud and long, his voice deeper as his chest and neck muscles started to swell. His sweat smelled muskier, deeper somehow. I was finding myself lost in his body, seeing how responsive he was to each thrust of my dick. Then I noticed that he was actually getting a bit taller with each thrust. Where Stewart's rash had been, Stu only had flushed skin from the lust he was experiencing. His eyes were rolling back in his head, and nothing but profanity spilled from his now bearded lips as a newborn daddy hunk who lay on the couch beneath me. Eventually, I heard the device beep, and it seemed to trigger Stu's responses. He roared out, "Oh fuck... oh goddamn fucking FUCCCCKKKKKK!" Cum splattered from his dick and across his bulky, hairy chest muscles, and he seemed to pass out in a sexually satisfied stupor. I pulled out, but he didn't seem to notice, just began to snore. I noticed that his cum was soaking into his skin just like the lotion had, though. I went over to the device to see what it had to say about the situation, and saw the following message displayed: Medium for Personality and Physical Alteration suitable. Subject 2 responded extremely well. Save (rename) - Subject 2: __________ I began to type "Stu" into the blank, but autocorrect finished for me and saved him as "Stud." Searching databases... "Stud" qualities applied. Details downloaded from 34,768 pornographic films (see list). Increasing sex drive. Lowering inhibitions. Seeking open relationships or opportunities to spread genetic material. Intelligence shifting from academic to physical and socially and sexually driven. Subject 2 saved as "Stud." "Oh geez... I hope that doesn't make things worse." I mumble to myself, before the device beeped again. I looked to the screen and saw a new message. Medium for personality and physical alteration insufficient. Please apply greater quantities of the medium to Subject 1's epidermis. Failure to do so promptly could result in brain damage from extended halted mental operations. I looked at Henry, and saw that drool was starting to spill from his lips. "Oh geez oh geez oh geez," I yelped as I grabbed some dishwashing gloves from the sink to avoid getting any of the stuff on me, and yanked open Henry's button down shirt to expose as much of his golden skin as possible. I took the jar from his hand and began slathering the lotion onto his body, watching as it glowed brilliantly under the stimulation of the device's signals. When I'd practically emptied the container, I dropped, it, pulled off the gloves so they landed on Henry's bare feet, and returned to the device, where I was relieved to see a new message waiting for me. Medium for personality and physical alteration found. Connection made... suggestion waves interfacing with subject(s) physiology. Subject 1 experienced mild brain damage. Repairs must be made to allow continued functioning. Authorize? Y/N? Without hesitation I pressed Y. I wanted Henry safe and whole. The device flashed again, and the gel coated all of Henry's body, remaining for longer than it had on Stewart before sinking into the bronzed Cambodian skin. Henry showed signs of life, animating and moaning low and loud. Unlike his husband, he didn't say any words... in fact, it seemed like he was acting far more primal and animalistic than Stewart had. He began to growl, deep in his throat and belly, and flex his muscles... which were beginning to pump and swell, making his remaining clothes look that much tighter. Veins seemed to swell in his neck and torso, as if pumping with the gel. His gut seemed to be pushing towards me, but "roid gut" abs were forming on its expanse as well. Henry's shoulders seemed to be getting broader, and his breathing was louder as the changes swept through his body (and presumably his mind). His neck was getting thicker, more bull-like, and I heard his spine crack as he began to get taller. Soon, he was approaching my height! Henry's clothes seemed smaller and smaller, but he took a step towards me, reaching out with hands that spasmed as a response to his arm muscles starting to grow. I felt those twitching, throbbing hands grab me... and push me aside! Instead of doing anything with me, like Stewart... or Stu, or Stud, I suppose... had, Henry went straight for his husband's passed out form on the couch. He bent his knees and flexed with a grunt, and began to flex more seriously. Shockingly, his muscles seemed to bulge and pump and swell even more! In a moment, his shirt had torn off his broad, veiny shoulders, revealing a body that had grown into the muscle, massive gut bulging under pillow-sized pecs capped with erect nipples. As his body continued to flex and expand, soon his pants too started to tear off... and perhaps in preparation for my visit, he hadn't been wearing underwear underneath. His cock, now a solid, massive monster, thick and vein-covered, flew up and smacked his belly as the tattered remnants of his old life fell to the floor. Even his socks ripped off his now bigger bare feet. The newly naked beast of a man wasted no time, leaning forward to bury his face and tongue between the cheeks of his husband's new hairy, unblemished muscle butt. I could hear loud slurping sounds as Henry... or the man who'd been Henry... began to rim Stu's stud ass with long strokes of his tongue. Stu began to moan and wake up. With a string of dialogue that I was starting to recognize from certain porn movies, Stu left no doubt about that. "Oh fuck, hon, you're so big! Look at those muscles... yeah, eat out that tight ass. Our little friend didn't fill me near enough. I need your big meat. Give it to me, hon... give me that. Huge. Fucking. Dick!" Henry complied. It was really hot to watch his body move, his head rising from his partner's hole, his hard dick, now almost as thick and long as my forearm, dripping precum as he lined it up, then placed his big hands on his husband's hairy shoulders and thrust inside the smaller man. The couch, a well-weighted thing that had withstood a lot, actually moved with the force, and Stu's language turned, if possible, even more profane. There was no effort to make sense, just variations on the theme of fucking in between gasps of breath with each thrust Henry made. Until Stu did something that changed things... he renamed Henry: "C'mon, Hank, stop holding back and pound me! FUCK!" Henry... or, I suppose, Hank, now... froze, despite Stu's extremely vocal complaints. "H-hank..." he moaned, his voice rough. "I-I'm H-Hank..." "Yeah, you are, HUNK, now fucking fucking FUCK ME!" yelled Stu. He probably shouldn't have said that. Henry's face seemed conflicted. "Hank... Hunk... Hank... Hunk... Hank... Hunk." As Stu continued to scream profanities, I moved forward, stood on tiptoe (for Henry had inched taller over the last minute or so), and murmured in his ear. "Some people call you Henry or Hank... or even Hunk." Henry's huge, muscular body stilled at my words. "I call you beautiful and powerful and genius and brilliant and sexy and the greatest man I know." Henry's body was shaking as his mind tried to accomodate all the changes it was undergoing at the words I spoke. "You're... Stu's... husband. A hard worker. Really gentle and strong and understanding at the same time. I wish I could call you mine." The world seemed to stop. Was I really going to do this? If I said the right thing, I could claim this mountain of a man for myself, maybe more deeply than anyone else ever would. But... if he didn't choose me, then his only interest in me would be flat and mechanical, right? It wouldn't be real. Henry deserved better than that. Hank deserved better than that. I deserved better than that. I thought for a minute to choose my words carefully, my mind made up, as I blocked out Stu's grumbles, I took a deep breath. "... but you're your own man." He seemed to shudder and sigh, and a smile moved across his lips as he nodded, seeming more at peace. Then, he abruptly returned to fucking his husband like it was the only thing that mattered. Henry... Hank... picked up Stu and started fucking him in mid-air, smooth lips against bearded ones. The harder and faster Hank thrust into his love, the more weight seemed to melt off him. Hank went from bulky to more powerfully built, with greater and greater definition. Cut muscles were revealed across his back and torso, and his ass showed incredible striation as his hips sped up. Sweat gleamed over his body as his huge biceps and powerful legs flexed, and, still sucking face, both men came. I could hear Stu cussing against his husband's kiss, though the words were muffled, and Hank's whole body just shuddered as they coated each other in their seed... which also seemed to melt into their flesh almost immediately. Both men then sank to the ground, wrapped in each other's embrace and drifted off to sleep again. I went over to the device, and found that it had overheated and died, its internal circuits fried sometime during the events of the evening, leaving it as a useless molten piece of junk. The lotion container that Stewart had needed was likewise entirely empty. I tried to clean up, but the guys wouldn't be moved from their spot on the carpet, so I settled in on the couch to be there for them when they woke up. Everything's different now. Stu and Hank (or Stud and Hunk, as they sometimes refer to themselves) have a voracious sexual appetite now, especially for each other. They're the only ones they can really cut loose with, since they are so much stronger and more durable than other men. That hasn't stopped them from pursuing careers as rising stars in the porn world. The public loves Stu's rough and tumble Daddy Bear style, and he's taken to the leather world as well. Meanwhile, at 7'3," Hank is one of the tallest, most powerfully built men out there, and he's seen as the strong, stoic type. Their old minds and memories are hazy at best, and Hank especially seems to be a completely new man. Their sex drives are through the roof, though, and they seem ready to try new things, so they've moved across the country to settle in to new lives where they won't have to encounter their old friends and family. I get a Christmas card each year from them, usually with palm trees and naked guys on it. And, of course, I have ordered every film they've starred in. Nobody knows what went wrong with the weird device and the gel. No one was ever able to replicate the same results with either product. The doctors gave each man a clean bill of health, but their psychiatrists said it might be years before they mentally and emotionally recover from the changes... if ever. They said that Henry and Stewart's nerves must've been hijacked by the malfunctioning device's signal through the medium of the gel, and through those nerves, the rest of their physiology was similarly affected. But doctors and shrinks became compromised after I found one worshipping both partners. It seemed that people just couldn't keep their hands off Hank and Stu... including Hank and Stu. When they left, they were both too into exploring their new muscles and minds that they spent an increasing amount of time having sex and exploring their changes. They didn't even say goodbye. As for me? I'm just living my life, just a normal guy who had a brush with greatness. I'm hoping someday, someone or someones will love me that much.
  3. Forced to be bro

    Forced to be bro Coach pushed the button again. Josh's fear didn't fade away. If anything, it increased. But it was now increasingly mixed with something else. A, now familiar, fourth warm wave of heaviness, and yet lightness, spread through his body in a pleasant way, and he became aware of his body in a new way. Heaviness. And yet lightness. He was soaked by the ugly-smelling cold-sweat he had exuded, when he struggled and resisted Coach. It had been to no avail. Coach was bigger than Josh, the sort of man Josh had aspired to become. Now, he found himself strapped to a chair in the locker room, an IV needle inserted in his arm and weird electrodes fastened to all his major muscles, and temples even. Coach had probably gone insane, and Josh feared for his life. God knows what unsafe substance Coach allowed to enter Josh's body? And electrodes? Weird ideas by a weird man. Coach pushed the button again. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. The terrified incoherent chatter in Josh's mind ran in all directions. He felt dizzy, nauseous. His compression shirt clung to his waist, chest and shoulders in a sticky way. His feet felt heavy inside his trainers, and he could sense the scent of his athletic socks, as they clung to his calves: The honest sweat after a workout, reeking in the locker room. Male sweat. The testimony, that he had done his best, and performed well. Coach pushed the button again. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. It had happened after the others had already left. Josh had been delayed – on purpose, as he now realised. He knew, that Coach wanted to increase his (and the other members') performance, and some sorts of supplements (not all of them entirely legal) had been part of the routine for some time, now. But this sort of drip-plus-electrodes was something unknown and entirely new, and Josh felt rigid by fear. Side-effects? Consequences? Forced to undergo whatever Coach wanted him to undergo. Coach pushed the button again. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. It actually felt rather good. One part of him began to relax. The excitement of another part of him had just begun to increase. He felt so present. Bodily present. In the chair. His arms resting in the armchair. His bum at the seat. Thinking of that, his glutes felt warm, too. Hot and sore, like after a leg workout. Legs. Thinking of that, his quads and hamstrings felt hot and sore, too. Like some pump going on. Which was actually a nice feeling. Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. In a pleasant way. Relaxed and excited at the same time. Bodily present and resting. All his muscles felt hot, sore and firm. Like after a workout. His socks clung to his calves. Calves felt like concrete blocks now. He was unable to lift his legs. He felt so relaxed, so he couldn't move his back. Hot, sore and firm back. His compression shirt expanded, tight around his widening back, expanding chest and bulging shoulders. The expanse of his back, chest and shoulders defined and limited by the compression shirt – a definition and limit now changing. Moving. Expanding. Redefining former definitions and limits. Hot, sore and firm chest. Hot, sore and firm shoulders: All three parts of his shoulders. Rear, middle and front. Bulging. Bulbous. Hot and sore. Felt good. Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. Yes, it literally felt good. Why bother? Why worried before? Felt pumped. Felt growing. Felt like a real bruiser taking his medicine. Wow. Bigger than coach now. Biggest. Not so sore any longer. Better. Felt better. Hot and firm body. No: Hot and hard body. So good. Shoulders and traps. Growing in all direction. So good. Huge. Ravine forming between his pecs. Oh, fuck, yes, deeper! Deeper! Continuing between abs. Pain. Good pain. Harder. Harder abs. Narrow waist. Heat in quads. Expanding. Heat in hamstrings. Expanding. Heat. Burning heat in calves. Socks expanding around his calves. Shorts felt uncomfortable. Mostly uncomfortable. One aspect of his shorts felt comfortable: His meat inside the jockstrap. Throbbing inside the jockstrap. Throbbing against his shorts. Big legs. Oh, fuck, his arms, too! HIS ARMS! Coach pushed the button again. Warm. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. He shuddered in the chair now. Shuddered by the power that flowed into him, shuddered by growth, shuddered by the FEELING of it. Fuck yeah! Look at this! Thug brawn! Real bro! Jock power! Not sore. Heat. Heavy and light. And power. This strength. So good. Deff. Changing limits. Expanding all over! Real ace, innit. Wait until I show up at home and show Olivia THIS. And the throbbing python. Impress her. This bro. With bro muscle. No, more: Muscle-god. Felt awesome. Becoming more. Becoming... Oh, fuck, so AWESOME! Like he was built of bowling balls, footballs. Medicine balls. Melons. GRANITE GLOBES! Fuck, look at this! Look at me! LOOK AT ME! Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Body. Spread. In a pleasant way. His body spasmed and convulsed in a sweet way now: Yeah, real sweet, innit. How would he be able to think about numbers, figures, stats now? They didn't matter. BIG was what mattered. BIG. BIGGER. HUGE. Steel-hard. More! Yes! More! The heat. The pleasure. The growth. Muscle-god heat. Muscle-god pleasure. Muscle-god growth. It didn't matter, that Coach had a hard-on in his tracksuit bottoms. Look at me, you insignificant shit! Look at this muscle mass! Tremble before me, you bloody wanker! Tremble before this MASS MONSTER! So good. His shorts ripping apart. Unable to resist his ENGORGED quads and POWER hamstrings, letting the throbbing jock out. I'm AWESOME! All body throbbing now. Throbbing of power. Throbbing of growth. Muscle-god power. Muscle-god growth. Wow. The compression shirt. Couldn't take it anymore. Not with THIS back and chest inside! Exploding out of my clothes! Unable to contain me! No limits! UNLIMITED GROWTH! Expanding. HARD! HARDER! INVINCIBLE! These traps! This bull-neck! Love it! The scent. My bro sweat. My jock sweat. My muscle-god sweat. Fuck, yeah, inhale my ultra-testo, fukking tosser. The URGE! More! Need more! Must have more muscle mass! The definition! Unbelievable! These veins! Pump beyond pump. Even better! Bulging all over. Muscle ecstacy! UNLIMITED STRENGTH! Ripping these weak straps apart. Don't stare, dweeb. I will remain in this chair. I will sit on this THRONE OF GAINZ and ABSORB all ultra-gear and all POWER juice you can cram into me. His instincts told him to flex. He flexed. It felt good. Coach looked scared now. It felt good, too. Obey me! NEED MORE!!! Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Body. Muscle. Power. Spread. Pleasure. The being, that had been Josh, was now unable to think coherently, even less speak coherently. As it rapidly indurated and spread in all directions it moaned and groaned. Grunted. Roared. Bellowed. It had the power inside it. It embodied power. It was power. It was strength. It was masculinity. It was brawn. It was mass. It grew, gained, bulged and expanded. Its roars and bellows intensified. The scent of sweat and pre-cum was very intense in the locker room, now. Coach pushed the button again. Heat. Wave. Growth. Gainz. Heaviness. And yet lightness. Awareness of. Power. Bulging. Body. Engorged. Muscle. Coach pushed the button again. Power. Spread. Pleasure. Coach pushed the button again. Coach pushed the button again. Power. Oh, fukk, look at me Coach! Pleasure. Power. Uhnnnnn. Pleasure. Uhnnnnnn. Power. Fuck, yes, MORE! Pleasure. Fukk, can't belive... Innit? So... Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power. Pleasure. Power! Pleasure! Power!!! Pleasure!!! Power!!!!! Pleasure!!!!! POWER!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!! POW... Oh, fukk!!!!! Uhh! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASURE!!!!!!!! PLEASU ... Coach pushed the button again.
  4. The accident

    It is very hard to keep any level of originality within the MG genre. This short one is fairly similar to Project Defender and The third report. On the other hand, those of you who like The accident, might find these two other stories fun reading. The accident "Larson, will you please close the vault door?" Larson, the lab assistant, ensured himself, that the test subjects were standing on safety distance from the massive door, and pressed the button. The machinery began to hum. More than twelve centimetres of rubber-coated steel with inserted lead-plates closed behind the test subjects, and the massive cylinders of the lock sealed the chamber hermetically from the outer world. The voice of Dr. Freudenberger turned to address the Brigadier: "The safety mechanisms are rigourous. When the door is locked, and the contrapment is set to active mode, the door will not open again, until the procedure has run the entire protocol. In the beginning, safety concerns for the test subjects weighed against this solution, but workplace safety for the research team, which dwell in the presence of the chamber much more often than the test subjects, weighed in favour of this solution. For every experiment with a living human specimen, the team run dozens of experiments on organic samples." There were three test subjects inside: Swanson, Korhonen and Rasmussen, and the medical team wanted to compare the individual reactions of the specimens to the procedure. It was the third treatment of these servicemen, and all three had reacted very well to the first treatment, at least from a purely tactical point of view. Larson was worried, from a non-tactical point of view. The armed forces of the three neighbouring countries wanted to enhance strength, speed and resilience of their special forces, but Larson thought, that the other team members and the officers responsible didn't take other aspects in consideration. From an academic angle, it was amazing to be a part of a team of international specialists from several backgrounds in medicine and physics, but it was also slightly unsettling and humiliating to be in the presence of all these fit and confident young men from the special operations units. Larson was short and lean, and though he lukewarmly spent some time at the gym each week, he never got any results. He knew, that he was a competent expert in his field of research, but the asserting behaviour of their test subjects caused him to feel shy, inadequate and uncomfortable, when they were around. Korhonen was rather nice: A big, stocky Finlander with a great sense of humour on the rare occasions he chose to talk, but Swanson and Rasmussen had given expression to a rather smug and roughhousing sense of humour, when they ate lunch with Larson in the cafeteria. It didn't seem like the improved performance had caused Swanson and Rasmusson to become less arrogant – rather the opposite. They were impressive. There was no doubt about that. They had already been impressive, before any of them had undergone any treatment, but the repeated and gradually more intense exposure to the procedure had turned the three soldiers into beings who could have stepped out of a bodybuilder's fever dream or a drill-sergeant's homoerotic reveries. They were now around two metres tall. According to readings from the chamber, the third treatment was now increasing their weights to between 160 kilogrammes (in the case of Swanson) and 200 kilogrammes (in the case of Korhonen). Their upper arms were well beyond 60 centimetres at the end of their second treatment, and the team was now able to watch their arms grow further at a visible speed. And these colossal chests! * * * A few days later, Larson was running a few routine experiments with organic samples, while the rest of the team was preoccupied in the lab next door. As the assignment was fairly standard and humdrum, he was becoming absent-minded, and was taken with surprise, when the door closed behind his back. It was Korhonen and Swanson, which was strange. "Oh hello. Didn't expect you here today. I thought you would find it boring to watch me work?" "There was a gap in our schedule." It was Swanson who spoke. Korhonen stood silent and looming inside the closed door. Larson's feeling of awkwardness returned in the presence of the impossibly powerful soldiers. Their camo trousers were green in several shades of green. Their impeccably polished army boots shone glossily. Army tank tops struggled to contain their V-shaped (or, in the case of Korhonen, bear-shaped) torsos, and he could see the visible outline of their six-packs through the fabric. The sides of their heads were clean-shaven. Swanson had left a jarhead buzzcut of golden stubble on the top of his head, while Korhonen sported a tow-haired short mohawk. Their repeated treatment inside the chamber had caused their jaws to become powerful. Larson possibly let his imagination run away with him, because he had read their test-results, but he could swear, that the testosterone-level in the room increased because of the presence of the two special operatives. Larson felt inferior. "Just allow me to expose this sample, okey? We can chat while the equipment run the protocol." Larson entered the chamber, and put the petri-dish on the allotted surface. What happened next, released thousand thoughts in an instance, and panic rose. The security door closed, and he could hear the cylinders move into place in the robust lock with a loud click. He was well aware of the safety mechanism, and he could hear the machinery warm up for the scheduled exposure of the organic sample on the small table. The presence of an un-scheduled unsuitable human specimen never meant for processing was neither acknowledged, nor of any concern. The equipment wouldn't switch off and cool down, until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Panic overwhelmed him, as he heard the hoses emit gas with increasing fervency: The nanite gas with the DNA-altering substances. He tried to hold his breath, but even without the rising feelings of terror, he couldn't have kept his breath for the entire time anyhow. The formula entered his lungs, entered his bloodstream. Larson screamed. He could see Korhonen and Swanson outside, standing with their camo-clad legs wide apart, and with their bulging arms crossed over their massive chests. Swanson tried to say something, but Larson couldn't hear any words through the thick and green-tinted security-glass fortified with a metal net. Korhonen tried to use body language. Pointing at Swanson. Pointing at the button, which closed the door. "Pressed". Pointed at Larson. A gesture with his arms, like someone was flying? No: Growing. And then pointing at Larson. Korhonen smiled and made a thumbs up. Swanson smiled, too. There was smugness in that smile. Larson couldn't take it in. Everything he knew was fear. The humming was thunderous now. Humming. Thunder. The next second, energy erupted and hit every cell in his body. The hypnotic program began to run, and letters ran rapidly on the glass. Subliminal letters. Reprogramming him. The hypnotic subliminals burrowed deep into his soul. Fear waned away. The unit took his program in, and accepted it. The enhancement happened. The unit embraced change eagerly. The unit was proud to be enhanced. Proud to be a specimen. It took a couple of deep breaths and inhaled more of the gas, that filled the chamber. The unit knew, that the gas would make it more enhanced, and increase its abilities. The unit's brothers in arms stood outside, and looked pleased. It felt good to cause it's brothers in arms to look pleased. The unit was bigger now. It adjusted its stance, but, even then, its legs were beginning to rub each other. It felt funny, but it was of no concern. The unit was eager to become an enhanced soldier. With his brothers in arms. They stood outside. They looked more than pleased now. They looked proud. And amazed. Its brothers in arms were in awe of the unit's progress. Triceps rested at wide, huge and firm lats, causing the unit's arms to hang wide at its sides. The unit could feel its back harden, widen, become indurated. The hypnotic subliminals continued to scroll swiftly in blue, phosphorescent letters on the glass. It felt good to take the programming in. Assess. Protect. Defend. Neutralise. Fight. The upper arms felt so hard now, bulging obscenely, and probably approached the same size as the brothers in arms outside. Or even overshadowing them. Bigger! Yes! Even bigger! Huge! Brawn! The chest felt engorged, and impossibly pumped. Present. Assertive. In control. Dominant. Superior. Scientists entered. Scientists panicked. One of them staring wildly, not knowing what to do. Not in control. Undecided. Unlike the unit. The unit felt in control. It accepted the procedure. It allowed the procedure to run the entire protocol. The door wouldn't open until then. The unit was ready to stay inside until entire protocol had run. Proud to be enhanced. Improving himself. A scientist pounded weakly with his bare fists against the security glass. Another one pressed buttons on a display. Didn't they know, that the glass was in place for security reasons? Didn't they know, that the door wouldn't open. Until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Its brothers in arms forced the unnecessarily upset civilians out of the room, and locked the door. One of them changed the contrapment's settings. The power buzzed more intensely now. The gas hissed louder now. Something else happened. The unit was dimly aware, that it had known what would happen in a dim and distant past, but it couldn't remember. So long ago. Another person. Another man. Another unit, then. It was now becoming what it was programmed for. It was becoming bigger than its brothers in arms. It felt good. Confidence and superiority grew. Physique grew. Strength grew. Granite-hard muscle-tissue grew. Steel-hard brawn grew. Power grew. So big now! Power was crammed into its body. Irrupting its muscle fibres. The body was a passive receptacle of raw, pure, undiluted, masculine POWER! One of its brothers in arms was wide-eyed now, and had to sit down on a chair outside the treatment chamber. The other one watched the empowerment inside the chamber happen, with a broad smile at his face. The unit was immersed in the process of empowerment. It now towered over its brothers in arms, and its muscle mass far overshadowed their prowess. It inhaled the testosterone of its own sweat, that filled the chamber. Its heartbeat drummed inside its ears, and was felt at its temples, but there was no end to the process, yet. Not until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Every cell of the unit's body was bombarded by relentless strength-inducing POWER, and it inhaled the very eruptions of that raw POWER. Becoming power. Becoming mass. Becoming a mountain of hefty indomitable meat. Titanic prowess. Bulging steel. An engorged, cocksure being of behemothic power-mass. The unit was no longer aware of it, but, outside, its brothers in arms were increasing the effect of the procedure even further. It wasn't aware of it any longer, as it moaned. It grunted. It roared and bellowed in power-crazed abandon. All it knew was the irrupting force, the increasing magnitude, the cumulation of growth, the swelling fibres, the hypertrophic gains, the exploding mass and the unlimited power, as it increased in a never-ending spiral upwards. Raw. Pure. Undiluted. Masculine ... POWER! The procedure wouldn't stop. Not until it had run the entire protocol.
  5. Fragment of a short story

    I couldn't find a suitable name for this one. It is a fragment of a short story. Wanted it out of my system. Fragment of a short story Simon wouldn't be the tiniest man on campus anymore. Any remaining incredulity had left him minutes ago, when the effect no longer could be denied. "Wow. Oh, fuck. Yes, can't believe it. So good. My muscles. And Simon's. Growing together." The sound of Todd in the chair facing him, opened his own inner flood gates, and he didn't try to restrain the feelings and the excitement and the asserting confidence that welled up inside him. The idea of Coach and Doc watching him, as he sat almost naked in the reclining chair inside the treatment chamber, had felt disturbing earlier, and he had felt vulnerable, with his pale and skinny form squeezed into a jockstrap similar to Todd's, at the mercy of the inscrutable gaze of Coach and Doc. But now... Now he felt his physique become empowered. More and more... empowered! As Todd had impressed him, when they first met, he intuitively knew, that Coach and Doc were impressed by him now. By Simon. He had never felt that sensation before. Yes! Look at me! Look how I become more like Todd. And Todd become... Wow. Todd was becoming even more jockish... Wider. Taller. Brawnier. Todd – who had seemed so threatening at first. Todd – who had used his imposing stature and place in the team to protect Simon from Brett. Todd – who turned out to be a gentle giant. Todd – who sold Coach the idea to include Simon in the experiment. Todd – whose brain was connected to the equipment. Todd's excitement seemed to increase. It increased Simon's excitement, too. He could feel his biceps become warm, sore and blood-filled, and he could feel the same thing happen to his back. His chest. His quads. Hamstrings. Calves. Shoulders. Forearms. Todd grunted. "Fuck, yes, coach! I imagine my muscles to grow, and they do it. I imagine Simon to join me, and he does. I imagine the physique of a perfect athlete, and this happens. This!" Unlike Todd, Simon had always had a faint outline of a six-pack. There are some advantages to being scrawny. But his six-pack had never been this powerful and defined before. Simon was entirely subjected to the treatment, and the alien presence of the formula was running in his bloodstream, without no way to remove it now. The last traces of fear faded. A new, different and better Simon was emerging. Under construction. Building. Yes! The build up! The build up of a new man! A better man. A stronger man. An asserting jock of a man. The perfect man. Masculine perfection! He couldn't recognise his own thoughts any longer, but it didn't matter. Couch would have the prototype of a new sort of player. Unless he decided to take up power-lifting instead. Or bodybuilding. Or Strongman competitions. Yes! Look at Todd! Big, burly powerhouse becoming a bigger, burlier powerhouse. Todd's thoughts, wishes and imagination driving the equipment into the desired goal. Todd's desires. No mirrors. Simon couldn't watch himself, but he felt bigger. Much bigger. The hardness. Firmness. Granite meat exploding all over him. Feeling present. Resting heavily on the surface of the chair. Yes! Bigger! Enormous! Huge! Triceps rubbing his lats. Wide, steel-hard lats. Good. Painfully growing calves. Shoulders like bowling balls. Todd was grunting and moaning in a voice that sounded aroused: "Yes, even better! More! Both of us! Stonking, unbelievable, fucking mega-mass Hulk-brawn!" Simon could hear Coach outside: "Doc, you have to switch it off. They will be of no use for me, if they grow bigger than this." "I can't switch it off. It is programmed to react to the imagination of Test Subject A." The lesser men outside began to quarrel, but Simon didn't listen. The feeling of growth was too overwhelming, and he trusted the mind of his friend in the facing chair: The young man with the growing bull-neck and impossible traps. The young man with the blond buzzcut, low brow and a dimple in his powerful chin. The impossibly muscled young man writhing in the opposite chair with a raging hard-on in his jockstrap. Todd. The new, now roaring Todd, roaring in muscle crazed lust and bumptious abandon. "Both of us! More! BEHEMOTHS OF POWER! Huge! INVINCIBLE MUSCLE!" Programmed to react to the imagination of Test Subject A. Todd's desires. In an instant, Simon remembered the comics in Todd's bookshelf: Old comic books. Conan the Barbarian. The incredible Hulk. He-Man. Todd's imagination, fed by old comic books, now fed the input of the equipment, and the equipment unhesitatingly and indiscriminately obeyed its input. Two scrawny men shouted outside, but it didn't matter. Simon was becoming what Todd wanted him to be. Engorging. He was growing together with the best man he could imagine. Growing. Into perfection. INTO. MUSCULAR. ... PERFECTION!
  6. Greed Demon Pt.4 Finale

    I am finally done with part4, I hope the wait wasn't too long. be warned it gets extreme and silly big... previsous parts are available here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Mammon was slowly running his gilded hands on his golden shaft. The Greed Demon Lord was a seven foot tall Adonis, with a generous and powerful musculature, and the face of a gorgeous man in full bloom from which stemmed long platinum horns. He was made of pure gold, living pulsating gold, with diamonds eyes, his big footlong cock was dripping liquid pearls. He was sprawled on a vast pile of gold coins and jewels, decadent treasure was amassed everywhere in his throne room, gorgeous males and females, humans, demons even an angel where enslaved, chained to the demon with opulent jewels and lock. A shiver ran across the golden demon. Something wasn’t right. Something was being taken from him. __________________________ Landon stood almost 10 feet tall, his body even wider than he was tall. Thick muscles piling on top of each other. Veins snaking all over his body feeding the growing muscles. His back muscles reaching higher than his head, massive pecs jutting several feets forward and casting deep shadows over ridiculously ripped and bulging abs. His legs were monumental, each one almost as wide as his torso. His skeleton had been twisted and deformed to accommodate the mind boggling amount of hypertrophied muscle stacked on his body. His dick was a 4 foot long 2 foot wide tube of pulsating flesh plunged deep into Damon, feeding on the ever growing demon power. Though less impressive, Damon’s appearance had drastically changed. His skin was a surreal dark olive tint, slick with sweat, his hair was an absolute black, eyes burning like embers, magnificent horns proudly coming from his forehead and coiling in an intricate manner. His body was massive. Almost as much as Landon used to be but it wasn’t striated ripped muscle. It was smooth, voluminous, bloated muscle, voluptuous looking, powerful and inviting. His massive pectits hanged heavily on his mighty chest, fat dark areolas slightly stretched by the muscular mass pushing under the skin. His globular ass filled by the monolithic growing dick of Landon. The huge cockhead could clearly be seen under the smooth silky skin of the demon, stretching him more and more with each passing second. The power the two were generating was off the charts, their symbiotic dynamic was nothing any realm had ever seen. Landon was the most visible part of that ever expanding power cell but it was only the tip of the iceberg. The real power surge was with Damon. The demon was reaching levels of power he’d never had thought he could reach. It was only a matter of time before he’d surpass the demon lords. He’d be powerful enough the overthrow the seven of them without even breaking a sweat. But first he’d have to find a way to hoist himself off Landon’s dick. He wasn’t going anywhere with that much cock shoved in him. __________________________ Lucifer sat upright on his throne, he was naked, displaying a body so absolutely perfect that anyone laying eyes on it would just stare at him forever. There were hundreds of them staring at the Pride Demon Lord , slowly letting themselves die while gazing upon the perfect form of the demon. He was a tall athletic black man with perfect proportions, a crimson velvet cape thrown back to fully reveal his glistening body. Bone curled horns framed his surreal face and a copper crown mocking the angel halos rested atop the magnificent figure. His whole body twitched, something suddenly upset him. Someone would ridicule him... __________________________ Garry’s mind was almost completely gone, only the joy of being used and treated as a sex toy remained. Lamia loved his new toy, it was nowhere near as powerful as Damon’s succubus but he was still enjoyable. He was still abusing the muscle boy’s ass when the words were burned in his mind. I NEED YOU AND YOUR FUCKBOY RIGHT NOW!!! Lamia violently pulled out of Garry out of fear and surprise, the muscleboy cried in pleasure. The demon grabbed his head with both hands, the pain of having another demon speaking right in your mind was almost unbearable. It was something only extremely powerful demons could do and they used it to terrorize lesser demon into obedience. -”Arrg, for fuck sake! That hurts! Why would you do this! Use the fucking phone”. Lamia was scared, If Damon mastered such a power there was no way of telling exactly how powerful he was and how powerful he’d get. But somewhere deep down Lamia knew it was probably best to be on the side of the rising Damon. His telephone rang and he picked it up immediately. -”Sorry, these powers are growing so fast I haven’t mastered them all yet.” Damon said -”Just don’t ever do that again.” Lamia muttered massaging his forehead. -”Yeah, I’ll try to avoid that, but right now I need that fuckboy of yours. As fast as possible. I will make it worth the trouble.” -”What are you up to?” Lamia asked. -”Let’s just say that there’s a hostile takeover of hell about to happen. And if you get both yours and your sex slave muscled asses in the meadows soon enough, you might get a promotion in the upcoming managerial reattribution. Don’t use the portal, I took it down.” Damon hung up. Lamia had never seen him be so bossy, he was definitely up to something and Lamia was definitely going to try to be on the winning side. -”Come on boy, walkies” he said to Garry. The obedient muscle guy climbed down the bed and followed his master out. __________________________ Beelzebub looked stunning at first glance, but should you look long enough at the Envy Demon Lord, you’d feel increasingly uneasy. Stitches ran all over the demon’s body. And each body part was a different tone than the other. His horns were mismatched and so were his eyes, which only made his glare more disturbing. Hard to say which parts of him where originals, he had ripped apart so many things from so many beings to claim as his own… ideas, properties, limbs… He sat in a dark room lit only by the dim light of countless screen on which social media feed rolled on forever. He’d occasionally click on some contents, archiving it, bookmarks for further harvest. He was restless, refreshing tabs faster, something was amiss, something was escaping his scrutiny, something he wanted but couldn’t have... __________________________ By the time the call had ended Damon was almost fully immobile. He was 11 feet of muscle bulging all over th his 15 foot wide frame and still expanding. Damon now had 3 solid feet of dick shoved in him. He needed to get off of Landon before the monstrous incubus turned him into a condom. Damon clamped his powerful ass and contacted his abs. Once he was tight and ready he focused his powers on making his behemoth orgasm, which given his newfound power was easy as pie. The cum blasted inside him created a pressure contained by his powerful abs and ass. Soon it was powerful enough and when Damon relaxed his ass he was propelled off Landon’s dick like champagne cork. Damon crash landed a few feet away. Cum was raining thick on the meadow. He got up, his hipbone fixing himself and his asshole quickly tightening back into pristine condition. __________________________ It was nearly impossible to get anything rational out of Satan, not even a word. The dysfunctional Wrath Demon Lord had been locked away in his castle. The muscular being was an uncontrollable fury, destroying everything and everyone he came across for as long as anyone could remember. His body was covered in bruises and scars. From his buzzed head emerged two broken horns. His eyes were burning with fire, leaving dark burnt trails on his forehead, while his mouth foamed like a rabid dog. While he was a restless storm of destruction to begin with, his fury suddenly amped up to the point he had a seizure. He fell to the floor, and for the first time in centuries, laid still. Crying to himself as he felt the rise of a demon overpowering him. __________________________ Lamia crossed the portal with Garry on his tail. Damon was waiting for them on the other side. Damon was around 7’ tall, thick muscle adorning his wide frame. It had a functional and powerful musculature like an olympic wrestler. He looked both intimidating and inviting. The slick black horns coiled back on his head and his burning ember eyes were a physical manifestation of his newly grown power. Once Lamia and Garry were close enough Damon smiled and shouted to Landon. -”OK darlin you can destroy that portal” Lamia and Garry turned in time to see the inhuman mass of Landon crush the stone portal with his bare hands, giggling like a maniac doing so. -”Good. We don’t anyone reaching us easily.” Damon said. -”Fuuuuuuck.” Lamia muttered. “He is huge… do you think he’s at his max?” -”Nope. That’s why I needed your toy. I obviously can’t take over hell with a mile of dick shoved in my ass. No matter how much I love that, I can’t. But I figured out I could build a proxy with that lil guy of yours… he hasn’t turned into an incubus right, I can possess him?” -”Nah he’s still just a human.” Lamia said -”Great. So here’s the deal, you give him to me, to use as I see fit and in return I’ll make you my second.” Lamia could feel the power emanating from Damon, he could also feel the bottomless pit that Landon was. There was not a single doubt that the seven Demon Lords would fall to Damon before the day was done, with or without his help. So the decision was easy to make. He grabbed Garry and pushed him toward Damon. Damon caught the beefy human with one of his arms and drew him close to his body. Grabbing the muscle boy’s ass with one hand, kneading it appreciatively. -”It’s a deal then.” Damon said, motioning Lamia to get closer. Lamia closed the distance to seal the pact, he reached to kiss Damon and immediately felt the powers of the demon imprint on him. He fell backward breathing hard as he realized the real extent of Damon’s powers. And they were about to grow a whole lot more. -”Now your turn buddy.” Damon said turning his attention back to Garry. Damon kissed him deeply. Garry’s submissive side was happy to give in to the demonic possession, to him it was the ultimate abuse and he loved it. Damon forced his power inside the man like a tide and in a matter of seconds Garry had turned into an extension of Damon. Possession was a way for demon to have several physical bodies, it simply pushed the host of a body in a corner and took it over. When they broke the kiss Garry was now just a spectator in his body. Damon was in full control. -”Perfect.” Damon muttered, “Now where were we?” he said turning to Landon. __________________________ Abaddon tossed and turned in his sleep. He looked like a pretty twink with unruly mousy hair and cute tiny horns. The Sloth Demon Lord opened one lazy yellow eye, pulled his covers tighter and went back to sleep. __________________________ Damon was helping Lamia back to his feet. The red haired demon was still reeling in from the deal they had sealed. Meanwhile possessed Garry was nuzzling against Landon 3’ dick and coaxing it into full erection. -”That’ll never fit in that tiny human.” Garry and Damon said in unison. ”But it’s easy to fix.” Garry’s body grew in thickness and stature. Just like Landon grew of greed, he grew from the delicious abuse inflicted on him. He rapidly reached 8’ tall and the caricature of a morphed bodybuilder. Once thick enough he turned his back to Landon, exposing his phat muscle ass and hole. Landon walked toward the offered body, with great difficulty. Damon grabbed the three feet pole and aligned it with Garry’s Hole. -”He’s all yours.” he said to Landon. Landon pushed himself into Garry. He felt the loose but comparatively small hole stretch against his cockhead. The silky inside encasing the tip of his glans, pushing against the firm muscles of the sphincter. The first ring offered little resistance but did apply some nice pressure on the massive shaft. The second ring followed shortly after and Landon kept pushing, inch after inch and soon foot after foot. Landon was finally reconnected with Damon through Garry who was now an extension of the demon. His whole body shook as his growth resumed. Damon felt his power surge. Soon he’d be unstoppable. Garry was mentally filled by Damon, who used him as a proxy for his powers, and physically filled by Landon whose growing manwood was stretching his midsection ever so slightly. What was left of his mind was in utter delight, and his body kept growing from all that abuse, allowing him to keep up with the ever growing Landon. __________________________ Belphegor was having diner. The Gluttony Demon Lord was always having diner. An obscene banquet with incredible dish succeeding one another. The scene was surreal, the overfed demon was massive, he looked like a muscle bear. A 10 feet tall 10 feet wide muscle bear almost immobile with muscle and chub. All over the place smaller less muscle bound demon were running around taking dished away, setting new on the table. Feeding the demon lord and occasionally massaging his fat penis to milk him. He’d then avidly drink his own spunk before he resumed stuffing his face (or more accurately getting his face stuffed). He was a merry character, but his mood slowly turned sour as an uneasy feeling of being outgrown by another demon crept on him. __________________________ The meadow was once a flat expanse, but now a pulsating flesh mountain was expanding at the center of it. It was almost as tall as Everest, quite wider, and totally made out of muscle. The bodies of Landon and Garry where grotesque masses of muscles colliding with other muscles. Comfortably seated between expanding cords of fibrous muscles, Damon watched the demonic realm shrink. He was growing too, though it wasn’t as fast as Landon or Garry, His physical form was twisted by the unfathomable and ever expanding power he possessed. He was 10 feet tall and weighed almost a ton of muscle. Thick ultra dense, powerful muscle. They were no longer full and inviting muscles, they were lean fibrous hypertrophied ridiculously vascular muscles and sinews. He had developed new muscle that didn’t exist on the human body to sustain his new improved body. Even his 15 inches dick had developed a set of functional muscles covering the whole shaft powerful enough to destroy a whole army. His tall frame had widened to allow him to have his full range of motion. He looked godly and ominous. Lamia was right behind him, looking at Damon with awe. He was also impacted by the tremendous development of his master but to much smaller scale. -”Damon, this power is unlike anything the Demonic realm ever knew. But I think they’re growing too fast. Aren’t you afraid they might be a hazard for the Demonic Realm?” -”Landon’s greed is bottomless. He’s going to grow to a unimaginable size and I need it to grow my powers. But you’re right he might get so big that he’ll change the face of the Demon Realm. But I do have an idea. Let’s get back on the ground.” Damon reached for Lamia in a graceful gesture. The myriad of muscle fiber rippling under his perfect skin. Lamia watched transfixed as the godlike behind grabbed him effortlessly and then leaped to the ground. __________________________ Asmodeus was a sight to behold, he was sort of a touristic attraction in the demon realm. The Lust Demon Lords body was a gorgeously crafted porno, with a glorious face, but the main event was his penis. The thing culminated at 3 000 ft (roughly 300ft taller than the burj khalifa for human reference) and a whole city had been built around it and on the very shaft. Stairs, lifts and railways, ran across it’s surface like veins but instead of blood they carried people living and working here. At the tip, near the urethra a luxurious spa had been built, it used the continuous and massive leakage of precum as a hot spring and you could enjoy bubble baths, massage jets and infinity-edge pool overlooking the city sprawling around the demon’s gonads. Somewhere in the palace at the base of the shaft, Asmodeus, despite being immobilized by his building sized penis was enjoying a never ending orgy with dozens of people. But his pleasure was spoilt as the sensation of not being the most hung anymore slowly crept on him... __________________________ On the ground of the meadow the noise was deafening, earth shoved aside, rock crushed under the pressure and the stretching leather like noise of multiplying muscle fibers. Landon and Garry were almost the same size, turning the once flat meadow into the highest mountain chain ever. Lamia was scared beyond measure of what those two were becoming and Damon’s indecipherable calm was only making things worse. Damon raised a hand toward the expanding mass of muscle, his whole body contracted like he was in the middle of a terrible effort. His body twitching, growing, densifying. The air around him started to burn, the ground under his feet turning to lava. Lamia had to step away from to scorching aura of Damon. The noise of broken earth and rock had stopped. That’s when Lamia realized Landon and Garry where slowly but unmistakably floating off the ground. The ascension of the still expanding muscle monsters accelerated. And within a few minutes they were leaving the atmosphere. The grotesque mass of muscle was nearing orbit of the Demonic Realm. Its growth slowly tapering as Landon became finally satiated. __________________________ The seven Demon Lords looked at the sky as a new moon rose. It was a moon made of muscle, of greed and power. The very sight of it was enough to make them feel weak for they felt that this moon was the work of their new Demon King.
  7. The third report

    Yes, I know: Another one too similar to the ones I have written in the past, but I wanted to let it out of my system. I hope someone will enjoy it anyhow. The third report "Initiating the third report. It is now... Ehhhh... 1308 hours on the appointed date, and the test subject has entered the chamber. If I may speak frankly, Sir, I would lie, if I told you, that I am not disappointed by your absence, but I hope, that this voice report will reach you, as soon as you will be back from your emergency mission. Our research project is proceeding slightly ahead of schedule, which is a good sign. As I mentioned in the first report and the second report, it seems like I have been able to bring the levels of pain down to the negligible, and I have also found a way to alleviate the residual pain, which will silence those who doubted that The Procedure would be within the perimeters of the ethical guidelines. Present in Lab 2 is me – that is Dr. Dubois – Guard number 4, Test Subject X1 and Test Subject X2. Test Subject X3 is already inside the chamber, awaiting the presumed effect of The Procedure. The same is presently working on a level of 23%, and we are thereby beyond the former upper limit of 20%." The sound of heartbeats and the beeping sound of a pulse meter. A hissing sound. "I am increasing the saturation of interior atmosphere, and activate the binaural-isochronic subliminals. The blood pressure of Test Subject X3 is decreasing, probably as a side effect of the analgetic stimulus. The prophylactically administered myostatin inhibitors are expected to have reached full impact by now, and it is now three days since Test Subject X3 was initially injected with the DNA-altering virus. The time schedule for injection of testosterone-enhancers was slightly re-arranged into a pattern deemed more optimal: The first one before sleep yesterday evening, the second one at reveille, and the third one at 1300 hours, now ten minutes ago. An increased production of perspiration is noticed." The sound of heartbeats and the beeping sound of a pulse meter. The hissing sound continued. "The Test Subject decide to use one of the reclining chairs, according to previous agreement: If the analgesics would make him dizzy, he would not hesitate to recline. We don't want the Test Subject to pass out and fall over, since the possibility to evacuate the chamber during peak Procedure is scant. Wait! It seems like something is happening now." The heartbeats and the pulse meter faster now. A muffled sound, almost impossible to hear. "The pulse of the Test Subject is increasing, and a visible re-structuring of his bone-structure is occurring. Since X1 was so typically mesomorph before Procedure, and since X2 belonged to an endomorph body type, we haven't been able to observe skeletal re-arrangement to the same extent before. As you will see in the statistic files, Sir, Test Subject X3 belong to an ectomorph body type, and if it is possible to expose men of his shape to The Procedure, its usefulness will increase manifold, of course. You will be amazed when you study the film sequence of this particular experiment. It is truly amazing! What was he when the experiment began? 170 centimetres? Well, 168 centimetres – about 5 feet 6 inches. And while X2 was overweight when Test 2 began, Test Subject X3 followed a normal weight curve, bordering to the underweight. 55 kilogrammes. Oh! Look at that! I didn't thought that that was even possible!" The muffled sound louder now, but still muffled, like by a very thick glass pane of lead glass. "The perspiration of the Test Subject is still increasing. Let us hope, that he will not dehydrate in there. Look at that! I didn't believe that was possible! Sir! The Test Subject is now rapidly increasing in stature, width and weight – actually beyond our former expectations. He clenches his fists. He stretch his arms and legs, as they actually extend more and more. The Procedure is presently working at a level of 30%. We have never before exposed a human being to this level. His weight has increased to 75 kilogrammes, no he is still increasing in weight: 78 kilogrammes – and all of it muscle mass. No trace of subcutaneous fat whatsoever. Look at that! We are creating a superhuman, but that was the idea of the Meta-Marine project, to begin with, wasn't it? Wait! He is growing even taller and broader! I can't believe it? What does the readings say? 179 centimetres and growing. Over 80 kilogrammes now. He is rising from the chair now. Stands up. He reach out his arms before him and flex his biceps. And pecs. His quads and hamstring force him to change his stance into something more comfortable. I can't believe the sight of that abdomen. A wall of muscle. And every muscle in perfect harmony and symmetry: A man built of boulders. Boulders of steel. That bull neck! Can't believe it is the same man anymore. 185 centimetres and 88 kilogrammes. He seem to roar something. I can't hear what. Signs of sexual arousal, but that's hardly surprising, taking his extreme testosterone levels in consideration... And all readings show, that it is perfectly safe. Perfectly safe! No signs of adverse effects. When the time comes for Experiment number 4 we will be able to take it to further levels, but probably better to abort Experiment 3 at this stage, in order to evaluate the effect, how tempting it would be to continue now. 190 centimetres and 100 kilogrammes! He has gained 45 kilogrammes in a matter of minutes. Those shoulders! And his trapezius! Unreal! Have to switch the chamber off..." Sounds of movement. Sounds of grunts and struggle. A metal vessel falling on a stone floor. A glass object breaking. "What are you doing X2? Let me go!" Boots on floors. More grunts. The sound of the power supply intensifying. The muffled moans and roars from inside the chamber louder now. "What are you doing X1? Leave the controls alone! Don't change the settings! The danger... What are you doing? Where are you taking me and Guard number 4? Maximum dose? You are insane! No! Not inside the chamber! NOT INSIDE THE..." The sound of a deep male voice moaning in pleasure. The hissing sound of a safety sluice. The sound of power supply louder now. Crackling power emissions. Five male voices moaning and grunting. The sound of panic in Dr. Dubois' voice. "NO! I'm inside! I can't get out! Why are you doing this? I and Guard number 4 are unprepared... The danger! You don't understand! What are you doing? You can't be..." Dr. Dubois' voice silenced and turning into moans. A wet, strange sound. Yelps of fear. Fear and pleasure. Heavy breathing. The heavy breathing of three men. Power bolts. The yelps of fear of two men. Breathing heavier now. Wet strange sound. Roars of release. "NO! What's happening to me? The Guard too? You are turning us into Meta-Marines like yourselves? But I'm not... Oh!" Hissing gas. Power bolts. Deepening voices: "Yes! THIS is what we were made for! The FULL effect!" And Dr. Dubois returning. Fear in his voice. Fear receding. Leaving space for something else. Confidence. Mindless revelry. "The Formula? Transmittable? From man to man? Inside me now? Can't believe! NO! I'm not supposed to... Oh! The programming! Can't resist... Fuck! No, oh... Sir! I'm inside the Chamber. X1 and X2 forced me and the Guard inside. I must leave you this report before it is too late... I'm affected by... OH FUCK! The scent of man. The Chamber... So full of it... Growing together... Becoming... this... together... Together with my brothers in arms. FUCK! Look at us! LOOK. AT. US. We are redefining what it mean to be a man. BUILT BY STEEL BOULDERS. So incredibly strong now. All of us. Look at you! And you! All of us. Together. Fighters. The Procedure... 100%. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT! The programming... Why resist it? Why. Resist. Something. So. Overwhelmingly. Uh! Uh, yes! Make me one of us! I'M A META-MARINE NOW! AND I WANT MORE! Yes! All of it! To protect and defend!" Power bolts crackling. A weird and sickly sound of growing meat. Hissing gas. Men moaning. Roaring. "Look at us! None of us under 2 metres! None of us under 200 kilogrammes! All this brawn! Beyond human limits! Masculine perfection! Those pecs! These traps! O, fuck, Bro, what's happening? Too good! Increasing more. Can't believe this muscular power. Yeah! Let me feel hose biceps. OH FUCK! Yes, taste my shoulders, Bro. TASTE MY SHOULDERS! Yeah, your lats a incredible, Bro. Pure, indiluted, incredible masculine brawn. Must spread the Procedure. Spread the Procedure to all men. Spread the Gift. All become brothers. Brothers in arms. Sharing the Meta-Marine power." The sound of breaking glass. Metal bending. "Look at the size of us, Bro! Beyond human! Metal can't withstand our strength!" Alarms sounding. Gas hissing. Power bolts. The sound of movement. "Yeah! Look at that! Gas spreading in all vents. The radiation leaking into the entire base. Look at our Bros! They're growing too! All of us. Growing. MORE! Yes! The experiment is a success! MORE! GROW ALL OF US! NEED MORE BRAWN!" A signal. The voice message had abruptly ended. A beep. Welcome [Commander]. You have [seven] new voice messages.
  8. Warmth spread over my entire body as my heart raced faster, adrenaline starting to race as I could feel the drug kick in. Everything I could see of my form completely stripped down to my briefs was becoming flush red with blood as I felt a pump like better than any I had ever received working out. I raised my arm that had been tempered by well over a decade of constant and near fanatic levels of dedication and thousands of reps. I saw it slowly twitch with veins slowly worming their way up to the top forcibly making their presence known, the hard orb of meat hardening even further as it slowly pulsed and swelled with a noticeably gradual but persistent growth. I brought up my other arm to test the density of my arm but got distracted by the sight of it before I laid a hand on my already flexing arm; instead I broke into a front double bicep poser displaying both of their increasing might into the mirror in front of me. I felt my lats tense and push out as I brought my arm into the pose, I could see my winds widen just a little bit further with every heart beat threatening me with lifelong difficulty managing doors, clothing, or even being able to place my arms to my side. My traps and chest, even with the disadvantage the pose brought to showing off their full glory, were no to be left lagging behind. I could feel my traps slowly crawl up my thickening neck attempting to swallow my head if left unabated while my shoulders have widened to the point of feeling like I've donned football pads that were inflating like balloons around me. My chest even with this pose was very noticeably growing denser to the point my nipples were traveling southward heralding that soon they would never see the light of day again. The warmth had slowly increased to a sweltering point as my body began to sweat copiously filling the room with the dominating scent of me. As if beckoned by an outside force I could feel my dick lengthen and harden with blood stretching to my side making a noteworthy protrusion in my breaths as it started to fight and claw its way upwards. My gaze met with my legs as my dick sprung free by itself hitting me hard in my abs leaving a trail of sticky white trailing over my stomach and down my shaft. I brought both arms down to start to slowly and purposefully stroke myself as I worshiped my quads with the other. I traced the lines running in my legs separating the each of the heads with my hand lingering, massaging the staggeringly impressive sweep they've gain. I flexed my ass and calves as I began to increase the speed of my strokes and tightened my grip as I was no longer in control as my body took over in a single minded quest to bring me to my knees in a mind shattering orgasm. While I methodically and robotically continued molesting my cock I bent my legs to flex my hamstrings and ass to their new unknown heights, I slowly committed every millimeter to memory as I bent further down to trace out the shape and outline of my calves. As I finished exploring my swollen and muscle bloated physique down to the last inch I shivered as I felt my balls almost violently pull up hard. I came all over the front of my behemoth standing form each rope of milk meeting or surpassing eye level for a good minute. Every burst I felt my prodigious nuts jump up and then fall down hard enough to lower my skin tight and severely tortured underwear. Eventually the fireworks slowed and then stopped all together with my chest hair matted to my skin by my outburst. I breathed out in complete and utter satisfaction before I was startled by the man who gave me the drug in the first place. "The growth is temporary." He said though I was still not able to fully understand what he meant in my afterglow addled mind. "...what?" I demanded. "Well it is a trial of the real product; we can't let you just go off and grow for free now can we?" Was the response I got from his "I've worked too long in fucking retail" smile. "What the fuck are you tal-" I couldn't finish my sentence. I felt like someone had kicked me directly into my sensitive and now gargantuan balls but at the same time as if they never took the foot away. I grunted in pain and moaned in pleasure at the same time as I bent over to cup my package still tightly imprisoned by my near threadbare briefs. My hands were pushed away as the warmth that I only just now noticed had never dissipated elevated to a searing heat all over my body. Sweat poured off my head and skin like rainfall as my hands were completely forced off of my taut and overfilled sac, my briefs torn off of my body and now on the ground next to my feet. I could no longer touch my nuts as they pulsed and swelled markedly larger every second dwarfing the size they were a second before. Any attempts to touch my dick were immediately rewarded with a feeling of pleasure bordering on pain in its severity as it bloated with more and more blood. At this point it had grown half again its size, turned many many shades darker, and was so dense with arousal and blood that there were more parts with snake like veins covering it than without. If I had worn a cockring and overdosed on Viagra I still would not be able to come close to the same state I am in now. Then, just as painfully as it started, all hell broke loose. My dick was expelling seed at such a terrifying amount a constant, uninterrupted stream of white came out of me as if I had put a pressure washer in between my legs. The surge of cum was so powerful that it knocked away any attempt for me to bring my hands to my dick as I vainly attempted to stop the flood. I could feel my body deflate as ounce after ounce, liter after liter, and gallon after gallon of fluid found freedom out me and onto the walls, ceiling, floor of the room and the mirror in front of me. I turned, the unending stream with me, as I tried to get to the door to find something, anything that could make this stop but I was blocked by the man standing in front of the door still wearing his trained smile but watching me predicament play itself out with amusement in his eyes. I turned back around staring at my dwindling form as I approached the now meager feeling but still very powerful physique I had before taking the drug. I feel to my knees as the last of my strength escaped my body along with the last of the muscle that had at least, temporarily, been mine. I rolled over onto my thick back that had fully reverted to its natural state with the memory permanently etched into my very soul of my briefly enhanced body, the memory now forever tainting anything less than what it had been for only a matter of minutes. My dick had finally stopped but was still hard after this life changing experience; I came again but from my own lust and desire for what I was. Breath still escaped the reach of my lungs as I was left completely and soul crushingly exhausted as I saw the gym clerk's head appear into my field of vision. "So, I take it you enjoyed your trial of our product if you would like I can set you up with a full purchase using your account, is that alright with you Mr.-" "YES, fucking god yes! Do it now." I barked at him with my throat so parched from the flood I created in the room I could barely manage to form the words. "Very good sir, is there anything you need while I begin the paperwork?" He inquired. "...could I get another trial sample just to make really sure?" I asked sheepishly. He laughed a bit before catching himself as he nodded at my still gasping body. He began to turn to leave the room to complete our transaction and get my sample before I asked him in a sheepish tone. "Actually...could you bring two samples? I want to really make sure. Oh and some water...please?" He stopped in mid stride and allowed himself to loudly laugh before responding. "Heh, sure thing. You're lucky I like you, but just make sure to use the cleaning equipment outside the door if you use both at once." He left the room and gently closed the door as my head continued to swim in a combination of the overpowering odors of my sweat and cum permeating the entirety of the room as well as my still shuddering body feeling aftershock after aftershock of an orgasm that I've never felt the likes of before but would soon top.
  9. It's a Christmas Miracle

    By Arpeejay This is a work of fiction and the characters herein are the products of my vivid imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental! ‘Twas the night before Christmas… Well, actually, it was 2 a.m. Christmas DAY but what else was new? As usual, I needed to get up to go pee and after I finished my business I headed to the kitchen to let Dog, my eight-year-old Irish Setter, out of his crate for HIS middle of the night pee break (any more, he’s diabetic, too, poor baby!) Before I could get there, however, he started barking up a storm, which pissed me off no end since… “You just went out at 11, you silly…” Then words failed me. There was a naked back – a really BIG, WIDE, MUSCULAR back, with a nice trimming of fur in all the right places – peering into my refrigerator. And this back was attached to a pair of red velvet pants, trimmed with white fur, that did nothing to hide the kind of huge, powerful ass that comes from years and years of heavy squats, plus bulging hams, and football-sized calves sticking out of a pair of oversized, loosely laced black boots. Ditto, the other end was attached to a beer-keg thick neck with a shock of soft, wavy, brown hair disappearing into a matching red cap! The only dissonant element – the thing that made me wonder whether I was actually awake, instead of obviously dreaming – was that instead of a coat the huge back sported a pair of rainbow-patterned suspenders. Finally my tongue decided to take action. “Holy moly – Santa, is that YOU?!” I squeaked. The big man turned. The face under the hat was handsome as hell, strong-featured and blue-eyed, and with a wonderful, well-trimmed BROWN beard, definitely NOT Santa! “Uh, well…” the Big Man said. And BIG he was. Clearly four or more inches taller than my 5’10 and packing at least 250 lbs. of more of muscle on his deliciously hirsute frame! Then I looked again. I’d seen that face! And that body! Many times! On Tumblr. On Instagram. And many other places! “Thom Austin!” He broke into a big grin! “Always nice to know I have another fan,” he replied, sticking out his big paw. “But you can just call me Santa’s Little Helper!” I goggled. Thom Austin, fur-covered big and built Thom Austin was standing there half-naked in my kitchen! I took his hand and shook it. “This is an extraordinarily vivid dream,” I told him. He pinched my cheek! “It’s no dream, sonny. You felt that didn’t you? Now feel this!” He flexed his big right arm and 22 inches of biceps, triceps and just general brawn swelled in front of me. SPROING. I felt it. It felt fucking amazing. “That feels fucking amazing!” He chuckled. “I figured you’d like that, Roggy-Rog,” he said. Blink blink. “No one has called me that since I was 12 years old,” I pointed out. He winked. “Well, you know what they say,” he said. “Santa knows your name – and so does Santa’s little helper!” I shook my head. “OK, I believe you’re real, and – believe me – I am NOT objecting but…what the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” He narrowed his eyes. “About that,” he said. “You didn’t leave a snack for Santa!” I gaped. “It’s a lot of work, you know,” Thom said. “Visiting all the places that need the extra special attention Santa can’t give them and still meet his delivery schedule.” It took me a moment to process all that. Clearly the Big Man was in the grip of some really wild delusion. I couldn’t imagine why Thom Austin was in suburban Indy in the first place, much less my kitchen, but if he wanted to maintain the Santa charade I figured I could play along. “Guilty as charged,” I replied. “I gave that up about the same time my mom stopped calling me Roggy-Rog.” Thom nodded wisely. “Yeah, I remember that,” he said. “Rough adolescence, wasn’t it?” Aieee! Not like I needed any reminders on that score. I shot up fast between ages 12-14 so I was relatively tall for my classmates (until I maxed out at 5’10, then they all passed me) but I was stick thin until college. I graduated from high school weighing 140 lbs. and hairless as a Chihuahua. NOT a happy time for a closeted gay teen who was obsessed with muscle bears, the bigger and hairier the better. Over the succeeding 30 years I had managed to pack on 60 lbs., mostly in the right places, and I was suitably hairy in the usual places but it was never quite what I wanted it to be. Yes, my arms and legs had a nice coating and there was a handsome pelt across my torso and lower pecs. But if I had a shirt on, even a V-neck, people could be forgiven for thinking I was hairless or shaved (not likely!) Same with my face: I could manage a decent goatee but the sides never filled in so a full-beard was out of the question. I guess it’s true that we want what we can’t have, hence my lust for men like the one who was standing in front of me! When the intrusive memories departed, I realized that Thom was standing just inches away from me, his big thick hands massaging my shoulders while I peered at the beautiful hollow at the base of this bull neck. “Every year Santa decides to give a special present to deserving souls – ones who have put up with a ridiculous amount of crap in their lives but who, even so, appreciate their blessings,” he said, gently. “No two presents are the same but almost always the gift is something that is accompanied by a lifetime of desire.” I shook my head. “You brought me a Red Ryder BB Gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time?!” He laughed. “You’re name is Roggy-Rog,” he said. “Not Ralphie! Now go back to bed and you’ll find your present in the morning!” I gaped. “Under my vintage 1964 tinsel tree with the drag queen earring ornaments?” I asked, then turned to look through to the living room where the tree shone in all its glory. “You’ll see,” I heard. I turned again. No one was there. Dog wagged his tail. “Did you see that?” I asked. He wagged his tail some more. “Do you need to go outside?” He trotted to the door. I let him out and he zoomed around the back yard, barking up at the sky and wagging his tail furiously. “Dog!” I called. “Stop that! You’ll wake the neighbors! Get in here!” He trotted in, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, so he got a late night snack as well as his cup of water. I crated him, treated myself to a cup of Chobani, and headed back to bed. (And, yes, it’s true: I post my imaginary conversations with Dog on Facebook.) *** I dreamed – vividly! That I had kicked off the covers, that I was burning hot but not feverish, more like being on a sandy beach in summer, or in a hot tub on a moonlit night in Palm Springs. That I was growing. I could feel my legs and feet getting longer and wider. They made a crackling sound, like a thousand joints popping, but it didn’t hurt. I felt my shoulders widening, my neck lengthening, my arms creeping down the bed. This is so fucking weird, I thought in my dream. But it felt so fucking good. In fact, I was hard I was a rock – and I don’t just mean my dick. It felt like my entire body was engorged and buzzing with a pent up orgasm. I ran my hands over my chest, willing my pecs to expand and spread. And they did! I did the same thing with my neck and traps and delts. And then down my arms, my biceps and triceps and forearms swelling and thickening, achieving ridiculous dimensions, my wrists and hands and tendons growing to accommodate their new mass. I tensed my mid-section and the abs I’d always known were there but never seen popped into high relief, eight cobblestones, the surplus adipose melting away. My dick throbbed and I put my newly Cyplenkov-sized hands on it to find that one hand no longer covered, that neither of them covered it. My head and my pelvis lifted from the bed as my back and ass swelled with muscle and power, and then it was time for my suddenly very long legs to follow suit. And just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, just when I thought my whole body would orgasm, THEN came the hair. It was a subtle itching but I could feel it sprouting. On my chest, all the way up to the base of my neck. Across my collar bones. On my arms and legs the follicle count doubled, then tripled. I could even feel it on my back, exactly in the places I had always admired it. And then my face. I brought my big hands up. My jaw was heavier, the chin more sharply defined, the jowls that were my real family legacy having melted away. My nose was stronger, my brows more prominent. It occurred to me I was drowning in testosterone. “Then let me drown,” I growled, and in my dream my voice was two octaves lower than it had been the night before. By then my now huge cock needed release. My big hands jerked it up and down once, twice, three times. My whole body shook. I was afraid I was having a seizure. The volleys went on and on. And then I sank back into the bed, the best, most vivid dream of my life replaced by oblivion. *** When I woke the sun was streaming through the bedroom window and Dog was yelping in the kitchen. I stood and tromped from the bedroom into the kitchen. For some reason, it seemed like I had to bend over a lot farther than usual to open Dog’s crate and my fingers were clumsy with the clasp. Dog shot out of the crate, ran around me three times, woofing like mad, and then made a beeline for the back fence when I opened the door. Jeez, I thought, waiting for him to come back. I feel so fucking weird! Dog raced back inside, wagging his tail like crazy. I gave him his food and water and his favor Christmas treat – a bacon-flavored rawhide bone! Then, per our usual arrangement, I went to make the coffee. I stopped in front of the refrigerator, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. The refrigerator. A big guy. Suspenders. My cock stirred in my jammy bottoms. “That was one helluva dream,” I said. My voice rumbled like gravel in a cement mixer. And that’s when it hit me. I was looking at the top of my double-wide, six-foot tall stainless steel refrigerator. Mark that number: Six-foot tall. I was 5’10. I didn’t SEE the top of that refrigerator unless I was on a step-ladder. And now I was looking down at it. And when did my beautiful jumbo refrigerator (I bought the house because of the refrigerator) get to be so dinky? I looked down and to my right. A huge, thick, massively muscled trap extended a LONG way to a set of delts that could have doubled as a beach ball! I looked down and to my left. Same deal. Then I looked DOWN. I couldn’t see my nips. There was this wall of muscle. Two gigantic plates of pecs, with – when I moved – a great horizontal split between upper and lower. Covered in beautiful black and brown fur! I reached a hand up and felt for my right nipple, after my dick my best friend in all the world. Oh fuck! It was there all right. Only about three times the size it had been earlier, the tip projecting – downwards! – a good inch or so. I took my hand from my nipple and lifted it. Up and up and up! It was like an ocean liner coming into view. Huge, high, magnificent. Fur-covered (and vein-covered forearms) that could have double for NFL lineman quads and an upper arm I was finding frankly unbelievable. “What the fucking hell?” I grumbled, and I swore the coffee cups danced in the cupboard. Dog ran around me three more times, and I followed him, trying to get a view of my legs (tremendous), my ass (spectacular), and my back (too big to see!) I tromped back into the bedroom and then into the master bath with the three-cornered, mirrored wall, the kind you would have in a tailor’s shop (hey, it came that way, not my idea.) Speechless. Before me stood a massive beast of a man. Thick, wavy black / brown hair, perfect beard and mustache, brilliant green eyes and chiseled features (think Steve Reeves at age 30 only handsomer and more masculine), over a neck as thick a beer barrel, shoulders that would give an ox to shame, and a fur-covered mountain of muscle that would make any Olympia contender look dainty by comparison. “Holy fucking shit,” I said. Without thinking, my hand dropped to my cock. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” It was bigger than anything I had ever seen in person. Hell, it was bigger than anything I had ever seen in a magazine or online or in a porno. Ridiculously long, ridiculously thick, covered in thick veins, throbbing and leaking pre like a fire hydrant. DING DONG! The doorbell rang. “Oh, crappy doodle,” I said. “Just what I need. Mrs. Kravitz bringing me Christmas latkes!” I grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around my waist. Fortunately, I don’t stint on bath towels, so this one managed – just -- to cover everything up, although it looked more like an oversized diaper than a sarong, which was the usually the case. Just before I followed Dog back to the kitchen I grabbed another to wrap around my neck and drape down my chest. I really did NOT want to be giving Mrs. Kravitz mouth-t0-mouth and I was afraid my headlamps -- more like searchlights – might do her in. DING DONG! “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I called, ushering Dog back into his crate, then heading for the door. Tchotchkes bounced on end-tables, the TV remote did a jitterbug on the coffee table, and a row of books slumped on the book case. I swung open the door, put on a big smile, and… “Holy Fucking Shit!” It was NOT Mrs. Kravitz. In fact, it was this amazingly handsome man, tall and broad and hairy, in a plaid flannel shirt, oversized leather jacket with a shearling collar, painted-on jeans, and big Timbas. Holding a tray of Christmas cookies. “Is that any way to talk on Christmas morning?” the handsome man asked, then let himself into my foyer. “I, uh, uh, what, who…” I replied. The big man, put the cookie tray on the sideboard, looked me up and down, side to side, and let out a whistle. “Hoo boy,” he said. “You done growed GOOD, son!” And then it hit me. “Thom Austin!” I exclaimed. He winked – I remembered that wink! Those sparkling blue eyes! “Today, yes,” he replied. I realized I was looking DOWN at Thom Austin. And that he seemed, well, kind of delicate. “Roger Jepson,” I said, extending my hand. It swallowed his! “Yes,” he replied. “We met last night.” I tilted my head. “Last night?” He nodded. “You remember,” he said. “In front of the refrigerator.” I shook my head. “That wasn’t a dream?!” Now he looked exasperated. “Have you looked at yourself this morning, Roggy-Rog?” I gaped. And then it all came rushing back to me. I looked at him again and there was the biggest, sweetest grin plastered across his handsome face. “How do you like your Christmas present?” I didn’t think, I just did it. I picked him up – all 6’2 and 250+ lbs. of him – like he was a puppy and planted a full-mouthed kiss on his handsome mug. It went on for some time. So much so that the towel around my waist started to slip. “Mmmmm,” Thom said. “Put me down, Big Man, and let me shut the door. Else you’ll have to be giving CPR to Mrs. Kravitz.” Was there anything this man DIDN’T know? “Plenty,” he replied, as if reading my mind. “I’m only Santa’s Little Helper for 24 hours and background details – like Mrs. Kravitz – fade away as soon as that’s done.” I rested my hubcap-sized hands on his broad shoulders, which now appeared to be narrower than my chest. “I don’t usually come back the next day,” he continued. “But I knew this was going to be good. Rarely do I run across someone with so much desire who has such a vivid imagination. And you’re clearly tops in both categories!” I had a thousand questions but I didn’t know where to start. “Let’s start…” – he was doing it again – “…by measuring you.” Of course! So we did, a process that lasted much longer than necessary because I was alternately flabbergasted, elated, amazed, disbelieving. As it turns out, I was, in fact, just as tall as the door frame, which made me 6 feet 6 inches, a good eight inches taller than I had been the day before, and four inches taller than Thom, who stood 6’2. “And you need to be to carry all that mass,” he pointed out. I still don’t know where the bariatric scale came from. I never bought it but it was already there in the bathroom and just as well: 557 lbs.!! Thom whistled. “Like I said! You have an EXUBERANT imagination! You’re EXACTLY 300 lbs. heavier than I am!” I spluttered. “But that’s not really possible, is it?” He rolled his eyes. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.” Oh. When it was just me, there was no basis for comparison. But standing next to Thom – a paragon of muscular development himself – it was clear. My shoulders were more than twice the width of his own. My chest was, indeed, broader – substantially – than his own broad shoulders. My forearms were bigger than his waist! He called off the numbers: Chest: 110 inches Shoulder circumference: 132 inches Shoulder width: 66 inches (5 ½ feet) Biceps circumference: 48 inches (four feet!) Forearm circumference: 40 inches Waist: 55 inches Quads: 60 inches Neck: 44 inches Calves: 48 inches By the time Thom finished measuring, I was fully hard. It was like a python, waving back and forth just under the overhang of my monumental pecs. He grabbed it and measured. “And this kept pace, apparently,” he said. “You’re eight inches taller HERE, too.” Fifteen inches!! “And a tad shy of 12 inches around,” he added. He was right, of course. It had been a respectable 7 inches long, previously, but now my dick would make Jonah Falcon green with envy. “Hey!” I said. “You knew how long…?” Thom didn’t answer. Or rather he did. By latching onto my right nipple with his mouth and teeth and tongue. I hadn’t thought I could get any harder. I was wrong. Eventually, after I more or less levitated the two of us to my bed and before my eyes rolled back in my head from over-stimulation, he came up for air. “I don’t know how I’m going to take that but I'm gonna try!” he exclaimed. “I have played with some big ones in my time but nothing like this one!” I growled, then covered his squat-butt ass with one of my shovel-sized hands. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out!” I replied. And we did. It was a Christmas Miracle! THE END
  10. THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast (Nico) humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Nico starts helping Olly grow - and it happens at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Soon he's eclipsed Nico himself. Stephan becomes fixated on Olly, but he's also concerned - why is Uranus Gyms (run by Nico's Dad, Mr Chesterton) experimenting on Olly like this? He steals Olly's protein drink, made by the mysterious Doctor O, and tests it on Tom: it not only makes Tom's muscle and cock swell, but allows the two of them to share minds. What is the plan for the new, alpha Olly? Nico's Dad invites Olly over and they worship one another - and fuck. But there is one final twist in the drama to come... Chapter 12 is here 13 Stephan Tuesday October 9th As soon as he came in the door, I knew something was wrong. He was wearing new clothes. They looked smart, businesslike, adult. And however much his expression may have been hang-dog, you couldn’t mistake him for a young man any more. He looked like someone's husband who's just been caught out fucking the au pair. He slunk into my parents' hallway and practically filled it. The new clothes creaked and strained around his physique: I would swear he was at the biggest I've ever seen him, and all in proportion — he was towering over me, and nobody's done that in about fifteen years. His blonde mane and beard swept down to the curls of golden hair escaping from the top of his shirt. His blue eyes were beseeching. 'Something's happened,' he said. 'I need your help.' 'Well, yes, of course, anything,' I said, trying to catch my breath. I didn't know whether I'd been expecting this or fantasising about it, but somehow I recognised the scenario. Dimly I remembered going to see my friend Andy when I was at University: I just realised something about myself, who I was, what I wanted, who I wanted... What had Olly realised – and who had helped him? 'Come into the kitchen,’ I told him. ‘Mum and Dad are out. If they come back in, you're — oh god, let's just tell them you're a friend of mine and I've known you for years. You don't look like what you are any more.' 'I'm really sorry. I looked up your address on the library computer. I didn't know who else to talk to about this.' I began to boil the kettle. 'Is it something to do with Nico...?' 'No. Yes, I suppose it is. Oh, it's such a mess!' 'Just relax. I'll take care of you.' 'I knew you would,' Olly said, tried to smile. 'You've always looked out for me, haven't you? Always given me good advice.' I let out a sigh. 'Yes, I suppose so. You ignored me, mostly.' Olly sat down on a chair that looked child-size under his monstrous frame. It seemed the whole room could barely contain him now. 'You work for the police, don't you?' I did a double take. 'Uh, not any more. I thought I said...' 'Well, you used to, anyway.' 'Yes,' I said, my heart beating even faster. 'I had to leave. I was addicted to –' 'It doesn't matter about that,' said Olly. 'There's a man. He's called Mark Lord Chesterton. The father of my friend, Nico. His address is...' He gave me the address. 'He's a beast. He needs to be captured – you know, arrested.' I filled a mug of tea, poured in milk, handed it over. 'Drink this,' I said. 'It's a herbal remedy. It'll relax you. And you really need to relax the fuck down, Olly.' 'I went to his house. He's Nico's Dad. Well, his adoptive father.' 'When was this?' 'Just earlier this afternoon.' 'How come you went to his house?' 'He was going to give me some of Nico's clothes. Well...' He smiled. 'Not Nico's. I'm bigger than Nico's ever been now. Bigger than he'll ever get. Check it out, bro.' He flexed his arms wide. There was a ripping noise. He looked down at the torn shirt sleeves in surprise. 'Holy fuck. I must have grown since I left his house even...!' 'If what you say is true, that's impossible.' My mouth was dry. 'I'm bursting out of Nico’s Dad’s suit, Stephan.' He grinned a stupid grin. 'This thing is out of control now. I don't think it's going to –' There was a loud creak, a clatter, and there he was on the floor, the wooden chair in pieces underneath him. He sprawled on the floor, huge bulge twitching in his trousers. I helped him to his knees. 'Drink your tea,' I said. 'Tell me.' 'He got me to take my clothes off. He took advantage of me.' 'This is a huge accusation, Olly,' I said. 'Be calm and tell me the truth. Did you encourage him at all?' 'Stephan...' 'Did you enjoy it, Olly?' 'I know you wish I was gay like you,' Olly said, pulling off the restrictive suit jacket. The shirt hung in colourful shreds around his super-human physique. 'I like girls.' He looked down at my evident hard-on in my corduroy trousers. 'Believe me.' 'Of course I believe you, Olly,' I said. 'I'll call the guys down at the station. We'll get Mr Chesterton arrested and charged.' 'And locked away?' Olly looked at me with such a young expression on such an extreme physique. I put my hand on my heart. 'I'll do whatever it takes, Olly. I love you, bro. And not in a gay way, if you can understand that. Even if I am, you must know, extremely gay.' 'Thanks Stephan.' He downed his tea at a gulp. 'I understand.' I got my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contacts. Yes, there were still a couple of gay officers back t the force who trusted me – maybe even owed me a favour. It had been a while since I had really felt like a police officer, restoring justice, sending a dangerous man (a real beast?) to the cells. But for Olly, my dear Olly, I would do it. I would make it clear that bastard wouldn’t be getting out of jail any time soon. I stepped out into the hallway to make the call. When I came back, he was stripped to the waist, trying to take a shot of himself with his phone that could take in as much as possible of his new impossible bulk. 'I don't understand any of this,' he said, looking at me. 'It's crazy,' I said. 'Crazy hot, though?' he said. I felt my hard-on through my trousers again. 'Oh yeah. But I understand the score. Strictly wank bank material for the likes of me, yeah?' He grinned at me. 'Well, if I can ever thank you for what you've done today...' I froze. ‘Really?’ ‘Not just today. Ever since I met you.’ He looked fluffy again. ‘Bro, come on.’ 'Actually…' I said, 'I was just about to suggest we go upstairs and – find you something you can wear. Like, even a dressing gown or something.' ‘Upstairs?’ said the young behemoth. 'Up to your room?' 'That was my idea,' I replied, slowly. Olly brushed blonde hair out of his eyes. 'I can't think of anything I'd like more, right now.' The stairs creaked beneath him as he followed me. I thought of the skinny lad with the smooth chin and friendship bracelet that I had met in the height of summer. He blossomed. He had grown. He had changed. When he put a hand on my shoulder, I bit my lip with pleasure. Just how much had he changed? Like any good police officer, I would investigate. When we were in my room, I locked the door carefully, just in case. Someone might arrive home unexpectedly. I finished my tea, put my laptop on silent, and took off my tie. 'I never expected anything like this would ever happen,' I said, running my hands over his broad shoulders, down his oak-tree triceps and biceps to his thick forearms and huge paws. 'You were such a sweet, straight boy when we first met.' 'Remind me.' I laughed. 'You didn't have any of this fur, for starters.' 'Oh yeah. I was so proud of my little tufts of hair in my pits.' He grabbed my wrists and ran my hands through the golden rug on his belly, his chest, his jaw. 'Now I'm all pelty.' 'You smell like a man now. You have a dark, animal smell.' 'I'm big, I'm hairy and I stink. Any improvements?' 'I don't think you could carry a stack of heavy books across a room. Now you could lift me up and throw me in the air if you wanted to.' 'Without breaking a sweat.' 'Really? Then I'll have to push you harder.' He gave me a knowing look. 'What else, bro?' 'Your attitude. Remember how Nico pushed you around that day?' 'Now I'm the boss.' 'Anything you say,' I said, gasping in his musk. 'I don't know what I'm saying,' he said. He ran his tongue across his dry lips. 'I guess that's something else that's changed, in this last couple of months.' I rolled my thumbs back and forth across his huge, mulberry-coloured nipples. They lengthened, thickened with excitement in my hands. I looked up at his handsome face. 'What's that?' 'Not knowing,' he said, closing his eyes in pleasure. He looked like a heavenly angel’s big, bad brother. 'Not knowing who I want…' 'Not Estelle,' I said. 'Not Nico's Dad. Not even Nico...?' I tweaked both nipples at once, and he moaned low in response at the back of his throat. Like a beast. 'I want,' he said, 'someone who knows what they want.' I undid my belt. He snapped his apart. I dropped my trousers. He tugged his own off his huge sinewed legs, ripping them to bits rather than stepping out of them. I got my dick out and began to slowly wank it. 'Someone who wants to worship you,' I said, burying my face in his chest hair. 'Be your disciple.' He put his hand around my hand around my dick. 'You're so cute and little,' he said, squeezing my fist tight around my hard cock and sliding it almost painfully up and down the shaft. 'I haven't switched size,' I said breathlessly. 'It's all you.' 'Same difference,' he said. 'It's a matter of perspective,' I said. 'And it ain't what you got, it's what you do with it.' 'Except,' he said, taking my other hand and putting it on his enormous, underwear-straining member, 'when you're built like Captain America, squared, what you got is what you do. You're completely in my power, aren't you?' 'Oh yes,' I said. 'But then, you need me. If I don't worship you, you're not powerful.' 'And how will you worship me?' I pulled my hand from his grip and slipped it inside his pants, and up under his mega-balls, and up further, till I reached inside his sweaty crack. I reached deep. His powerful glutes clamped down on my hand, but I kept reaching. 'Let me show you.' 'I don't get fucked,' he said. 'That's not part of the deal.' 'I'm going to touch a pleasure centre in you that you don't even know about,' I said. 'I'm going to broaden your mind to places you didn't realise existed. And you're going to cum for me. You're going to cum harder than you ever did before. You're going to fly.' He bit his lip. 'Sounds alright.' 'Get that underwear off,' I said. He smirked, stepped away from me, and, balling up his hands into fists, flexed every muscle he could. Knots and cords stood out thick and thin in his legs and arse; abdominals stood proud like a xylophone; lats flared, his pecs bulged giant and red beneath his chest hair, his biceps were mountain peaks, his shoulders reached up to his beard. His dick seemed to flare and flex inside his underwear, stretching the material thin and then tearing it open as if it were only wet tissue. His balls seemed to swell with spunk and fur, and the underpants twanged apart altogether, and he was nude. A Greek statue, but bigger, and flushed with colour and radiating heat, and looking down at me with satisfaction. ‘At last,’ he said, his deep as a man’s, ‘I’m finally starting to get big.’ 'Only the man who is truly masculine knows how to be fucked. Lie down on the bed, Olly. You’ve come a long way, but I’ll teach you the ultimate lesson.' 'Will it hurt?' he said, clambering up onto my duvet. The scent from his horse cock was bittersweet and powerful enough to make me salivate. 'It'll gym-hurt,' I told him. 'And it'll gym-pleasure.' I climbed up onto his chest. He lay beneath me, acres of furry muscle like rolling hills below an aeroplane. Slowly, steadily, I wanked my dick. I ran my dick over his lips. He smiled. I slid it in his bearded face, tilting his head toward my achingly hard man-prong. He licked and nibbled it like a pro. Aha, I thought. The first real giveaway. 'That's so good,' I said. 'You're so good. I'm going to worship you. I'm going to make a god of you, and a church with a great big steeple, and an ecstatic dream of the universe. You'll be my everything.' 'Oh, yeah,' he said, drooling. 'I'm your master.' 'You're so fucking, fucking hot, Olly,' I gasped. 'Or should I say — Mr Chesterton.' The look of surprise on his face was sublime. Sudden vulnerability. Real vulnerability. I'd undone him in a moment. 'What?' he said, and as he opened his mouth, his innocence spoke to me, and my hard dick was lying across his face gleaming with his spit, and I was totally overwhelmed. I moaned, long and low, and gushed torrent after torrent of white hot creamy spunk over his young-old, handsome, hairy face. The spunk ran in rivers through his beard, tracks across his shocked expression. And then he smiled. 'Yeah,' he said. 'Okay. What's the point of pretending? I am Chesterton. King of Uranus Gyms. Owner of Muscle Worshippers dot com. Older than you, although in his prime. Nobody will believe you in a million years.' After cumming, as usual, my mind was completely clear. 'You've taken over Olly's body.' 'Jealous?' 'A bit,' I said. 'How's it done?' 'Oh, this is amazing. Discovery. Interrogation. I really want – need – to fuck you now.' The words coming from Olly's innocent lips were so strange. There was nothing innocent about him now. 'Simple mind transfer drug. It works like a dream.' 'Almost literally?' I said. 'The human mind, like the human body, can be taken further than most people have ever imagined,' he said, scooping up my hot jizz from under his chin and oiling it into his absurdly muscular pectorals. 'I gave it a pretty good shot myself. You should see the real me, Stephan. My original body is Muscle Daddy Heaven.' 'But you wanted Olly's body,' I said. 'Not specifically Olly,' he replied, reaching between my thighs for his giant semi-tumescent cock. 'But yes, something younger was required. A body ready to be taken even further. Further in size.' He gave his grossly long, thick knob an almost convulsive shake so that the head smacked my arse heavily. 'Further in power.' And another shake. 'Further in pleasure.' And another. I could feel myself becoming aroused once more. Here was Olly as I'd always wanted him. Huge. Flat on his back. Gay. Wicked as sin. I had to keep my composure. 'You corrupted him,' I said. He batted at my arsehole with Olly's dick, testing my resistance. ‘Oh, it wasn’t hard to do. A slow seduction. Every young man wants to be bigger, stronger, better hung. You can get a lad drunk on that. I had already corrupted Nico — you've met him, my son – in the same way.' 'Another musclehead.' 'Grown in a laboratory. Bred to be the perfect receptacle for my soul,' he said. 'A clone of me, in fact. He'll probably turn out pretty amazing.' He licked a huge forefinger and slid it up my arse. I tried not to show how much I wanted it. 'But Nico got into muscle too soon. I needed someone whose mind had already developed, before they got hooked on bodybuilding; just like Olly's had. Then I could get his super-brain drunk on the pleasures of packing on the muscle.' His fingers were up inside me now. Opening me up for him. Taking me. 'The whole of Uranus Gym was put together,' I groaned, 'just to make him into a vessel for you.' 'To create a young, hung, alpha male muscle beast,' he said, 'with a taste for cock.' 'And then make him want you.' 'Everybody wants me,' he said, sliding his monster bazonger up inside my arse. Inside me. Filling me totally till we felt welded together. A beast with two backs. He held me steady, as though I were a sex-doll he was positioning on his outsized prick. 'Not to make you even more jealous, Stephan, but before I got inside Olly’s head, I got inside his arse, just like I’m inside yours now. It was necessary.' I gasped with pleasure and pain. He smiled a cruel smile with Olly’s mouth. 'You are good, Stephan. Not many people could take a member this size.' 'I had a lot of practice with my ex,' I said, wiping tears from my eyes. 'And one or two police constables. And a pub landlord. A university librarian. A poet. God knows how many construction workers, city gents, skinheads, dancers, footballers, popstars, ex-popstars, and a grocer with a marrow that made my eyes water.' 'I think we're going to have a lot of fun together.' 'And what about Olly? In your old body?' 'You've just sent him to prison, more or less,' he said, thrusting with excitement at the thought. 'Safe out of my way. And he'll get plenty of action in there too, if he plays his cards right.' 'Oh,' I said, wanking my dick again. It was harder than ever in my life, and I was surging with excitement as if electricity were flowing from his groin through me into my mind. 'This is too good.' 'I know,' he said. 'Because,' I said, 'I've done nothing of the sort.' He was still smiling. High on sex. 'Eh?' 'I haven't called my old mates in the police force about Olly. But I did put them onto your right-hand man — oh, what was his name? Dr O?' He fucked me harder, anxious thrusts. I gasped. 'You're making that up.' 'No,' I said. 'I knew as soon as you came in the door. My boyfriend and I already tried out your weird mind drugs. I pieced everything together. And Dr O fancied me, so he gave me his card. Miscalculation.' He was bucking now, hard and deep. His face was calm but his body was bucking as if he wanted to throw me up in the air, or fuck me into a pulp. It felt astounding. His abdominals were dancing like kids at a rave. 'I still have power. I have power over you.' 'No,' I said. 'I gave us both some mind control drug in our tea. Oh, it feels so good, Chesterton. Do you realise you're still growing – ah! - bigger with every – ah! - thrust. Bigger – ah! and bigger. And I – ah! – oh, I feel stronger than ever. I feel fit and strong and sexy as fuck. Strong enough not to be taken in, not to be betrayed by my own desire. Strong enough to get inside you.' 'No!' he gasped. 'Inside your mind,' I said. 'No!' His huge balls smacked against my arse. 'To bring Olly back,' I said. His huge hands grabbed me round the throat. I couldn’t draw breath. Blood pounded in my cheeks. I saw stars. Constellations. Faces. I looked into the eyes of those faces, as he drilled me like the beast he was, so strong and huge he made the bed snap its legs, one by one, and crash to the floor. He was golden-furry now from jaw to belly to the backs of his hands. But so sweet and fluffy all the time. His hands weren’t throttling me how, but clinging to me, cleaving to me, rocked back and forth with me, almost like a lover. Almost like he wanted me to feel good. A final spark of anger surged in his eyes, as Chesterton regained control: 'No!' 'And the best part,' I said, 'is it's all been broadcast on Muscle Worshippers dot com.' He looked up at the webcam in a panic. 'Fuck! No!' 'Yes!' I gasped, cumming again. ‘Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes!’ 'Yes!' said Olly, triumphantly, and lay back on my pillow gasping for breath. I leaned forward and kissed him, and it was him, Olly, and he was inside me, gasping with pleasure. 'Oh my God, Steve!' he said. 'I'm fucking you! I’m – I’mmmm – mmmmmmmngh…' He looked down at us both. His dick was pumping jism into my arse, I was overloaded with it, it was running down my thighs. His soft, sweet, puppyish look was back in his wide eyes. A deeper realisation was dawning, like he was waking from a dream. 'Oh, Steve – thank you!' I ran a hand affectionately over his sweaty chest. 'It was a pleasure,' I sighed. Like all good sex, it had been a pleasure and it had been a pain. And now it was over. To be concluded...
  11. THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast (Nico) humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Nico starts helping Olly grow - and it happens at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Soon he's eclipsed Nico himself. Olly seems increasingly alpha. Nico is a star of muscle worship websites and private clubs. Where will it end? Stephan suspects that the men at Nico's gym - Uranus Gyms - are experimenting on Olly; he steals a flask of their protein supplement and tries it out on Tom: it not only makes Tom's muscle and cock swell, but allows the two of them to share minds. What is the plan for the new, alpha Olly? Will Nico's Dad - owner of Uranus gyms - be able to help him? Chapter 11 is here. 12 Nico Tuesday October 9th I came home from working out at the gym with Olly and I was, like, I need to get naked — now. It used to be so easy before Olly came along. I used to finish a workout, hard as fuck in every sense of the word, and then just hang out in the communal showers with the other muscle lads. Just soaking my aching muscles, soaping them up, waiting to see who was interested. And believe me, most of the lads were interested. It was first come first served when I had my cock out. I could take my pick. I used to wank myself off for their delectation. We would stand around in a half-circle in the showers, water blasting down on our hard, sweaty bodies, and jacking off, our gaze shifting from prick to prick. Little smiles. But I was the centre of attention, because my knob easily dwarfed even the biggest of theirs. And I was serious about showing it off to its best, making them all want a taste. They would wait till I came before they could spend their load. Then I realised how many of the guys in the gym were into this sort of thing, and we moved out of the showers. We went into the changing rooms. We could take our time there, and I would put on a different sort of show — a fuck show, with whichever of the gym lads was flavour of my month. But it was always a show, always a performance. I could always tell myself I didn't really like guys. I only liked guys who liked me. Fuck me, if I didn't have the best time before Olly came along. Then suddenly I had to keep it in my trousers. Playing straight. I only had eyes for Estelle — a new kind of performance. Any action involving other blokes had to be behind closed doors. Of course, Dad had helped me set up the Muscle Worshippers site years before that. It was when I was leaving college and I told him I wanted more incentive to bulk up. I was bigger than any of the lads in my class, bigger than some of the guys in the gym, but I really needed to compare with some of the guys out in the wider world. So it's a long time that I've been working out and showing off on that website. I always feel at home there. And when I got out of the gym today, I knew I had to go straight on there. It was Olly's fault actually. He had said to me, 'Bro, your chest's exploded since you last came. It's nearly as big across as mine.' He's taller than me these days, so even with our shirts off and our tits pressed hard against one another, I couldn't be sure if he was just being kind. Jesus, but he's come on a long way since the summer. The only guy who's ever outclassed me in the chest department is Dad. When I first met Olly, he was flatter than pavement, and totally hairless. So I get in, lock the door, turn on my laptop, log onto the site, see who's on there. Immediately people start coming into the chatroom when they see it's me, but I'm looking out for my favourite of the bunch — TomOfFinsburyPark. There he is. 'Hey Nico,' he messages me. 'I'm browsing secretly at work. So bored. Just want to see you do your thing.' 'Wanna Private?' I ask him. 'Can't participate,' he says. 'On my iPad in board meeting.' 'Even so,' I tell him, 'I want this to be just between us two.' 'Okay,' he says. 'And I'll repay you tonight.' So I go into a 1-2-1 with Tom and get into position for my cam. I'm wearing my trackie bottoms, gym singlet and hoodie. I'm flushed, I'm sweaty, I'm buzzing. I down some of Doctor O's protein shake that he specially mixes for me. I love the thought of Tom sitting there in his suit and tie, going note by note through his meeting, and his entire will is fixed on me and my body. 'You're so beautiful,' he tells me. I begin a slow dance, and then I peel off the hoody and stretch my arms wide. I run my hands down my sweat-sodden singlet, paying special attention to my new, huge chest. My dick's hard in my trackies, and I'm running my hands down further, outlining the hard-on in the soft grey cotton, when I hear the doorbell go. 'BRB,' I tell Tom. 'Sure. So hard here. Your pecs are looking outstanding,' he says. I pause the cam, go to my bedroom door and open it just a crack. Downstairs I can hear my Dad's heavy tread as he goes into the hall and answers the bell. 'Ah,' he purrs, with what sounds like pleasure and surprise. 'It's you.' 'Well,' says another voice, deep but much younger than Dad's, 'you invited me and — I thought about it and — it seemed like a good idea.' 'Oliver, isn't it?' says Dad. 'Olly.' My heart starts racing. Does Dad know I'm in? I don't think so. But what if Olly asks to see me? Can I get this hard-on down in time? The way I'm boned now, it feels like it'll never go away. 'That's right,' says Olly, shyly. 'Is your son here, sir?' 'No, sorry,' says Dad, 'Just us two. Can I get you a drink?' 'I shouldn't really. Nico and I just had a session. At the gym, I mean. Training.' Why does he sound so nervous? 'I've got some of the Doctor's protein shake,' Dad says. 'Wouldn't hurt you to have a double dose, would it?' And he laughs softly. 'Come on, I could do with conversation. Been working on my research and it's very lonely and very dull today.' The door closes, and the pair of them go into the kitchen. I go out onto the landing so that I can still follow their conversation. Why didn't Olly tell me he wanted to come round? Why isn't he at the library? 'Don't you normally work on weekdays?' my Dad asks, as if reading my mind. 'I took the day off,' my friend replies. 'My boss does whatever I ask of him these, and I just thought, I shouldn't put off coming round. And he'll be happy if I'm not wearing gym-wear around the workplace any more.' 'We'll go up to Nico's room in a while. There's loads of things he's outgrown now, practically bust them open in his last round of bulking,' Dad says. 'He told me himself you were welcome. You've been such a friend to him, I'd be glad to see you wearing them.' 'Thanks,' Olly says. 'No, I really mean that. I kind of think of you as one of the family.' I hear Dad filling two glasses with protein shake. 'Thanks,' says Olly again, this time for the drink. 'Tastes nasty but it works like magic,' Dad says. 'Do you take it?' asks Olly. 'Oh,' says Dad, 'I don't work out any more.' 'But you look — I mean, you have such big –' Dad laughs. 'Why, thank you! You're not so bad yourself. Especially for someone who was a stripling a few months back.' 'It's just hard work,' says Olly. 'And help from your son.' 'And dedication,' Dad says. 'The drive to be — would it be too strong to say, a beast?' Olly laughs. 'King of the jungle! Yeah, that's what I want.' 'I see it in your eyes.' 'I kind of think I see it in yours too.' My laptop 'PLINK-PLONKS' softly. I go and look at it. 'Everything okay?' asks Tom. 'Meeting's over. I'm going to the toilet. Need to wank my big dick before it rips a hole in my suit trousers.' I tell him to go ahead. I want to join him. But I can't leave the landing. I need to hear what's going to happen. Any minute they could come up the stairs and surprise me. When I creep back, they're discussing astrophysics, politics, eugenics, crazy stuff that I don't even understand. I've never heard Dad talk so comfortably with another guy before, and it's weird to think his talking to someone young enough to be his son. 'That's really interesting,' Olly's saying. 'Has anyone researched that area before?' 'Not at all,' says Dad. 'The field is yours.' 'That would be amazing,' says my friend. 'To just devote yourself to developing your body and your mind. To not have to care about anything else.' 'What about your girlfriend?' Dad says. 'What about Nico's girlfriend, for that matter?' 'They don't understand,' Olly says. 'I think only another man could understand. I mean, look at us.' 'Yes,' I hear my Dad say, 'look at us,' and then there's a long pause, and it goes on and on. 'So — shall we go upstairs?' says Olly. 'Good idea,' says Dad. I hear his footstep on the stair. 'Except...' 'Yes?' says Olly. I head back into my bedroom and leave the door ajar. I'm pulling my clothes back on. 'PLINK-PLONK', says the laptop, and I head over. 'Show's over?' says Tom. ' :-( ' I hesitate to turn the site off. I want to please him so much. I need a wank so badly. In that moment of hesitation, I hear Dad pause outside my door. 'Come into my room instead.' I hear Olly take a long breath to steady himself. 'You're sure?' 'Looking at you now,' Dad says slowly, 'I think, you're too big for Nico's clothes. If you're going to wear anybody's cast-offs, the only things that will fit would be mine.' 'I like the idea of that, sir,' says Olly, still sounding so nervous. 'Don't tell my son.' 'No,' says Olly. 'I won't.' I hear Dad unlock the door of the room opposite mine, and him and Olly go inside. They don't close the door, but even so, I breathe a sigh of relief. I sit down on my bedroom chair opposite the webcam, in that position I know the light is falling on my body and making it glisten. I begin to feel my dick through my pants. 'Oh yes!' says Tom. ' :-) ' 'Take your shirt off,' Dad says. 'I want to see if you've grown as big as my son says.' 'Like this?' I could picture Olly taking his shirt off well enough. I see it every day at the gym. Every day I hold my breath, waiting to see what he's packing after his latest growth spurt. He's not like he was that first day, a gawky little guy whose head — and all that fluffy blonde hair — was almost outsized on his body, when he wore that shirt of his big brother's that practically drowned him, and he was looking at me — oh yes, I knew it — with utter envy at my muscle. He was ashamed then of how small he was next to me. He couldn't feel that today — this morning, for example, he looked almost twice my size again. He looms over me. I look up at pecs that are like great mountain ranges of furry flesh, his big nipples sticking out a dark salmon pink, begging to be tasted. He's like an inverted triangle, and his arms are tremendous great pieces of machinery, strong enough to snap a guy in two. But still he's shy. He'll be shyer still with Dad. He glances away, unpeels his t-shirt slowly, carefully off his massive frame. Then, once it's off, he glances down at it, still somewhat amazed each time at this Hollywood action hero body that belongs to the skinny little middle-class librarian. His pecs twitch unconsciously. He can't resist a little smile at that. And then he blushes. 'You shouldn't blush,' Dad says. 'Don't be embarrassed. You ought to be proud of what you are.' 'I am, sir,' I hear Olly say, but he sounds uncertain. 'I sometimes find it hard to believe this body belongs to me. But I love it.' 'You should.' My Dad sounds impressed. 'Your size. Your definition. You're the leader of the pack. You're the biggest, strongest guy in town.' I slip my dick out of my underwear and begin to jack off. 'Come on, then,' I hear Ollie say. My hand freezes on my cock. Is he really going to say it? 'You too.' 'Sure?' my Dad says. 'I want to compare, sir,' says my best friend. As the silence deepens, I wank myself slower, picturing Ollie's face. 'Wow,' I hear him say. The word just escapes like a sigh. 'Come on, really?' 'You're flawless, sir. I've never seen anything like it, not in real life.' 'Not bad for an old guy...' 'Mid-forties is not old,' Ollie says. 'And really, I've never seen anything so...' 'You said you wanted to compare,' says Dad. 'Come over here.' I'm holding my breath. Listening. My dick is hot and hard in my hand. I tweak a nipple, almost without thinking. Oh god, I murmur to myself. 'Show me how you make a bicep,' Dad says. Then, 'Goodness. Okay, hold it there. Let's see.' 'Oh, yeah,' says Ollie. 'Bigger?' Dad says. 'Come on, I'm obviously smaller,' says Ollie. 'Very slightly,' Dad says. 'Show me your tricep.' 'Like this?' 'You're good at that,' Dad says. 'Now, mine...' 'Bigger than me,' says Ollie. 'Not by much,' says Dad. 'Come on, bring your chest alongside mine.' 'Like this?' 'They don't need to touch.' 'Sorry.' 'That's okay.' 'It's hard to tell because you're so fucking hairy, son.' 'I know, sir!' Ollie laughs, still shy. 'It's something else that just grew and grew when I took Doctor O's magic potion. But it's all about testosterone, right? I've read about it.' 'Oh yes,' Dad says. 'It's about a boy becoming a man. That can happen at twenty-one or forty-one. But once it happens, you know about it.' He sighs. 'Okay, I can't tell whose pectorals are bigger but yours is definitely one of the broadest chests I've seen. And your nipples are very, very hard, aren't they?' 'Just from when we nearly touched,' Ollie says. 'I mean, don't take any of this the wrong way, I'm not gay, sir.' 'Oh, I didn't mean anything like that,' Dad says. 'Now, come on, take off your trousers so I can check out your thighs and glutes.' 'Yeah, cool — if you will, sir.' I could hear them unbuttoning their jeans. Undoing zips. I heard the fabric hit the floor. I almost wished I could put my head around the door and sneak a look, but I didn't need to — I could see everything. I could feel the tension between them. I could just imagine my Dad's cologne and the smell of Lynx deodorant on my gym buddy. I could see the looks they gave one another, the way they flexed and posed for one another. 'That's one impressive bulge, son.' 'I guess I just got a bit excited, sir.' 'Yeah, funny isn't it!' And they both laugh. 'Why don't we compare in that too, sir? There must be one muscle I've got that's bigger than yours?' Oh Jesus Christ, I thought. Pre-cum was oozing out of the top of my hard dick and over my knuckles. Please. Please. 'I don't know about that, son.' Please, guys. 'Go on, sir. Or are you scared?' Dad barked a laugh. 'Okay. You asked for it! On the count of three?' 'One...' 'Two...' Three, I said to myself, and bit my lip. There was silence from the room across the hall. A big silence. I could almost hear them breathing, forcing themselves to breathe, as they gazed fascinated at one another. Pride etched on their faces. No, on one face only. 'Holy shit.' 'Well, son, I did warn you.' 'But I didn't expect... I mean, I've never seen one as big as mine.' 'It's a beauty, don't you think?' A pause. I thought, Ollie's debating with himself what he can and can't say. And he knows he has to say it now. There's no going back. 'Can I touch it, sir?' Dad sounds completely fine about the whole thing, like he's talking about a favourite watch or vintage car. 'Go ahead, son.' I lick my lips with a dry tongue. My cockhead is painfully swollen with excitement. I remember when my penis was the Eighth Wonder of the World as far as that skinny little librarian Olly was concerned. I remember when I would see him stealing glances at it. I love feeling undersized, for once. I almost wish I'd found out how hung my Dad was before this. 'It feels so solid. I can't get my hand around it.' 'Try both.' A pause. 'Still no.' 'I almost hate to say this...' Dad doesn't sound apologetic. He sounds like he's having the time of his life. 'It does swell up a little bigger still. Just before I cum.' 'I'd love to see that,' Olly says, in a rush. 'Maybe you can help me out, then?' 'Like this?' 'Yeah, that's a start.' 'I feel like I'm doing it wrong.' 'No, no, keep going.' I hear Dad sigh. 'You ever wanked another guy before, son?' 'No, sir.' 'Thought not,' Dad said. 'It's not just that,' Olly said. 'You're just so huge, I don't know how I can...' 'Why not use your hands on the shaft,' Dad says, 'and your tongue on the head? I'm sensitive there.' 'Can I?' 'Of course,' Dad says. 'Do whatever comes naturally.' There's no talking for a minute, and I'm spitting on my palm so I can wank myself slower at the thought of this. Olly on his knees. Dad on his feet, erect in all senses. I hear Olly gag, splutter, gasp for breath. 'How am I doing?' 'Really good,' Dad says. 'Keep going.' 'Are you getting close?' 'I need to go a little further. Put it back in your mouth, son.' 'Right, sir.' Oh god, oh god. I can't believe I'm listening to this. Oh god, don't stop. 'Stop. Like I said, we need to take this further.' 'What do I do?' 'Bend over.' I can hear Olly processing the idea. 'Really? I've never...' 'You've never had a tongue in your arse before, right?' 'That's right. Sophie never suggested anything like –' 'Just give it a try. That's all I'm saying,' says Dad. 'Spread your cheeks. They're just begging for this to happen, son. So strong and pert. All part of being a real man.' 'Fair enough.' And then, I hear it. I hear Olly gasp with pleasure. Then groan. Then call out and groan at the same time. 'You like that, don't you!' 'Don't stop, sir!' 'Oh, you taste good...' Olly makes more noises of pleasure. 'Ah! Yes! Ah!' Then the sound of both of them, breathless. 'I .. didn't realise ... it would be ... so good...' Dad laughs. 'Thanks. You know, there's one way guys can take this to the next level. Olly? You understand?' 'Do it, sir.' 'But you do know what I'm talking about?' 'Should I bend over again, or lie down on the bed?' 'Olly, you understand — what we're going to do — it's just about being buddies. I'm not gay. You're not gay. Okay?' 'I don't know what it is. I don't care any more. I want you inside me. I think I — sir, I think I love you.' 'Olly — ' 'And I want you to fuck me like — well, just don't — don't hold back.' 'Okay. Let me put a condom on first. Just in case.' He laughed, then. 'I mean, there's no chance of any trouble, obviously, but I had them specially made for me so I might as well use one.' I heard a sound like someone pulling a tarpaulin on over a motorbike. 'And here,' said Dad, 'drink a little more of Dr O's potion. It'll help you relax. Okay?' 'Okay. God, but I want you so much.' 'You're going to have me. You're going to have all of me. Inside you.' 'Oh yeah.' 'I'm going to lie down the bed, and you're going to sit on me, okay?' 'Like this?' 'Slowly. Carefully. You need to be in control.' 'Oh, I can feel you — I can feel you in me — oh, god, oh Jesus...' And then I just listen to them fuck. It's wordless. Deep. Growling. Pleasure and pain together. My Dad. My Gym Buddy. Joined together. On the bed, in the room across the hall, fucking hard. Gasping. Grunting. Then demanding. 'Faster!' 'Squeeze my balls.' 'Grab my beard, sir.' 'Take it.' 'Go deep.' 'Wank that dick, son. Wank that big, fat dick of yours.' And I do. I wank my dick, and Tom is watching me and telling me he wants to see me lose control. Wants to see me cum. But I'm holding out. I'm waiting. I'm waiting to hear them do it, cross the line, go deep, lose themselves. When I hear it, it's like their voices are joined in one. They speak together. The very same words. They're like one person in two bodies, two huge muscled bodies dripping with sweat and dark with fur. 'Yes,' they say. 'That's it. I'm there. I'm there. Yes. That's it. Go!' And as I picture them spunking and gasping and losing control, so creamy white cum is oozing in rivers and torrents out of my dick. I'm covered. My hands are filthy. And I'm biting my lip not to moan and cry out in pleasure. I don't even think about the fact I don't hear them talking any more. I don't think of the sounds, until afterwards. I don't think of the way the door to Dad's room has closed. That I can hear Olly outside my door, pulling his clothes on in a mad hurry, rushing down the stairs, grabbing his bag, running out the door, slamming it behind him. But what happens next is really weird.
  12. Muscle Wroshippers Chapter 11 of 14

    THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Soon he begins to eclipse the Beast himself. Where will it end? Hakan's new boss/lover wants to see how far Olly pushes Stephan and vice versa. Stephan suspects that the men at Nico's gym - Uranus Gyms - are experimenting on Olly; he steals a flask of their protein supplement. The only man Olly sees as an ally is Nico's musclebound Dad, the owner of Uranus Gyms. Who will get to Olly first - and why? Chapter 10 is here. 11 Tom of FinsburyPark Monday October 8th I had the text from Stephan during my lunch-break yesterday, while I caught up on some patient admin: Are you busy tonight? Think I've got something you could take care of S x It turned out to be a busy day. I'd been up till midnight the night before doing website stuff, then up again at 07.00 and speeding into the surgery before I knew what I was doing. Mainly colds and flu jabs, which is about right for this time of year. At the moment, it sometimes feels like a computer game while I'm at the surgery, people come in and I assess their symptoms and zap them, automatically. It's not my real life any more, and that's okay. I try not to think about my evening job while I'm in my daytime world, or my mind starts drifting, suddenly I'm away on some flight of fantasy — and there's some pensioner with inflamed sinuses sitting there, waiting for my reply. The text really did break my cool for a minute. The last time I was in touch with Stephan was kind of odd, one of those middle of the night things — I was up late working on the site. Mostly going through pictures taken by Dean. There were some pictures where he got right under my ball sack, catching the afternoon sunlight bouncing off my cock shaft, making the whole thing look like a third leg, and not just that, but a third leg that had a great fat thigh. I was thinking: 'This must be how Stephan remembers me. Just a big juicy cock with my face bobbing some way above it.' The idea got me hard. I texted Stephan. We had a sexting session. Then I had to go into work. I hadn't really pinned very much on it. Just letting off some steam. Now he wanted to come over? And see me in the flesh? Not only that, but on a night when I'd be working — not that he could have known about that, and my second job. Or did he? Did he know what I'd been up to? The afternoon was more difficult for having to concentrate on all that. I felt like I had to give it some thought. Consider if another time would be more suitable. Ask him exactly what he meant by something I could take care of, as if I didn't know (although, as it turns out, I didn't at all). But it was too late. I'd already said, Sure. Half seven? Pasta? T x He came round dead on at half seven. I opened the door and he was leaning in the doorframe, looking slightly nervous. I'd forgotten just how tall he was, or how hot those glasses looked on his long, square-jawed face. He looked me up and down. 'Wow,' he stumbled, taking me in. 'Peak beard. Lumbersexual. Very on trend.' 'Well,' I said, suddenly self-conscious, and looking down at myself. 'You know how it is. I have my character to live up to.' 'Character?' He looked at me blankly. So he didn't know. 'Come in,' I said, 'before I overdo my fettuccine.' He shut the door behind him and came into the kitchen with me. With a 'donk', he put a bottle of Merlot on the kitchen table. 'Brought a bottle,' he said. 'Well, in fact, I brought a couple.' 'You know what I like,' I said, turning away to give the pasta a warning stir. He smacked my arse playfully. 'Don't I?' he said, mischievously. 'How's things? You're looking well.' I turned toward him, and before I knew it we were in an affectionate embrace, my face was upturned, we were exchanging chaste little kisses on the lips. Just a tad more than friendly — but then, isn't that where we'd been, the day we had our trial split? Was that a good thing? A promising thing? Or a sign of how far we'd get and no further? 'And you,' I said. 'The lumberjack look really does suit you,' he said. 'I mean, really really.' He looked down at my jeans. 'Have you distressed those on purpose to show off your cock, or...' 'Yes,' I said. 'I have.' 'Ah. You've come out of your shell,' he said. I realised I was holding my breath, and let it out. 'I hope so.' 'It's been useful, this break,' he said. 'I feel that way, anyway.' 'Have you been seeing anyone else?' I asked him, busying myself with the wine bottle so I didn't have to look him in the eye. 'Well,' he said, 'I, umm, wouldn't say that exactly. Nothing serious. I've been going out to my way to avoid it. Thanks.' He clinked his glass to mine. 'And you?' From somewhere in the corner of the kitchen, where my laptop sits, I heard a loud, 'PLINK-PLONK'. 'Excuse me,' I said, and went to check it. It was from Lumberjackoff83. 'Mmm, he looks fucking hot. Go 4 it.' Quickly, I gave one of my less engaged replies. 'Thx m8. Stay posted.' I turned back to Stephan. He was tasting my pasta sauce. 'This looks great,' he said. 'Got any courgette? Sorry, but I've been working in a cafe, and I just know it would go perfectly.' I was thrown by this conversation. It was slightly more innocent than I'd been girding myself up for. 'Of course,' I said, forcing a grin. I opened the fridge door and passed him his required vegetable. 'PLINK-PLONK!' said the laptop, and then 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' Stephan gave the machine an odd look. 'I'm not interrupting something?' 'Not at all,' I said. 'Quite the reverse.' I went over to the laptop, where fans of mine were sending through suggestions on what we should do with the courgette, none of them even remotely culinary. I decided to throw them a sop. 'I hope he puts it in my mouth,' I told them all. 'But the night is young.' Stephan was still working on the sauce, so I decided to work on my glass of wine. He looked up at me and smiled. 'So come on, answer the question, sunshine, or do you want a nice little ride down to the station?' 'PLINK-PLONK!' said the laptop, but I ignored it. 'Well,' I said, 'Dean's been coming over a bit. You met him, remember?' 'Yeah,' he said, turning back to his sauce. 'And then there have been — one or two others.' I finished the glass of wine. 'Actually... I run an internet porn site out of my flat.' Stephan dropped the spoon into the pan. He had to hunt through my cutlery drawer for sugar tongs before he could extract it, scrape sauce back into the pan, wash his hands, pick up his wine, give me his full attention and say: 'What?' 'Dean got me into it by taking those photos,' I told him. 'He told me my cock could go a long way.' 'It does go a long way!' smiled Stephan. 'So your character...' 'Yes,' I said. 'Tom of FinsburyPark.' He considered. Then looked at the laptop. 'You're — we're not — being watched online now?' I nodded. 'Do you want another glass of wine?' 'Yes please.' He shook his head. 'But you used to be so shy...' 'I know,' I said, and then laughed. 'And this is much more fun.' 'I don't doubt it,' he said. 'Videos?' 'And photoshoots, and live streams. Like tonight. I was due online anyway, I couldn't switch off. People pay their subscriptions, after all.' I sipped the wine again. 'What do you want to do now?' The laptop 'PLINK-PLONKED' with suggestions. Stephan looked down at my semi-hard cock, beautifully outlined in my jeans, then switched off the heat under the pasta with a sharp click. 'I think we should eat,' he said. We ate. We talked. It was an experiment, and we both knew it, but we were both giving it a good shot, and each of us responded well to that good vibe from the other. I told him about the little that's been going on at the surgery, about how I'm still reading Proust, which is of course not strictly true, but I am still trying to read Proust, and that's good enough for me, so it should be enough for him. I told him my Mum and Dad were okay. He told me his were fine. He told me more about his job at the cafe, and his boss, and how they're not seeing one another, not really, but every now and again, one thing leads to another. And he told me about the job itself, and about how happy he felt to be putting great big delicious meals down in front of people. Encouraging them to relax and indulge themselves, instead of policing them, literally. I put my hand on his. 'That's great,' I said, 'but, come on. You didn't come round to tell me about how you can bake lasagne.' He took a deep breath. 'No,' he said. 'I didn't.' He poured himself a big glass of wine and took a long gulp. Then he said: 'What do you know about hypertrophy?' I shrugged. 'It's when muscles grow. Perfectly natural process.' 'Can it be done unnaturally?' 'That's the gym industry,' I said. 'It's an important stage. You manage it carefully, building up to it, supporting it, even stimulating it.' I rolled up the sleeves of my plaid shirt and flexed for him. 'Here's the results of my gym club membership and bulking powder!' He smiled politely. 'Looking good.' 'Hmm, I want to get bigger,' I said. 'Not much but, you know — for the audience's sake...' The smile vanished. 'You look great as you are. What's the obsession with size? I mean, okay, I like fit guys. I even like the occasional muscle guy, but...' 'Get to the point, love.' 'This is the point. Except, I suppose, it's not. You see,' he said. 'There's this lad called Olly.' So this is when he tells me about a young guy called Olly who works at his local library. Not seeing him, either, it seems — straight as the proverbial die, apparently. When Stephan first met him, he was just an ordinary, slightly geeky, fluffy young bloke, perhaps even a little undersized. Now, as Stephan sketches it, he's hit the gym. Hard. And it's paying off — perhaps a bit too much. 'I can't overemphasise the change,' Stephan said. 'He's like a different guy. A cave man. Alpha male. Pure muscle. Plus, if I'm any judge of these things, he's started to grow — down there... I mean, is that even possible?!' 'I wish...' 'You!' he said. 'Of all people!' 'Everyone would like a few more inches,' I said. 'I love it when guys come over to the flat whose cocks are even longer and fatter than mine. And they love it too. Size is power, power is sex. But with your boyfriend...' Stephan made an exasperated sound. 'Alright,' I said. 'But you do sound concerned about him, for somebody you're not fucking...!' 'Yes,' he said. 'This is new! And I want to make sure this stuff he's been taking is safe! And I knew you would know.' That's when he got the flask out of his bag and put it on the table. 'You want me to run tests on a protein shake?' I said. 'For your new boyfriend...?' 'He's just someone I care about,' Stephan said. 'He's not interested in guys. He's not interested in much apart from astrophysics and how to put on "slabs of muscle".' 'Okay,' I said. 'I'll do it tomorrow. Now, let's talk about nicer things.' 'Such as?' I could see he was still het up, the poor thing. 'Such as dessert,' I said, going over to the fridge and fetching out my secret weapon — banana split sundae. 'PLINK-PLONK', went the laptop, rather predictably at this juncture. I watched him spoon ice cream between his lips, making little grunts of pleasure as it went down. A few gulps and my dick was fully hard and straining at my jeans — I'd worn my tightest pair, just for the occasion. 'This is good,' he said. 'I know,' I said. 'Are we still on cam?' he asked. 'You bet,' I said. He took this as his cue to pick up the banana and lick the gooey sweet cream off it. Lick, lick, lap, lap, swallow. A smile, with the goo still coating his lips. 'You're not out of practice then,' I said, 'even if your boyfriend is straight.' 'I try and keep in training,' he replied. 'Just in case the situation should arise?' He looked at me over his glasses. 'Don't worry. It has risen.' 'That was quick.' 'Maybe that magic drink has aphrodisiacal qualities too,' he said. I gasped. 'You didn't...' 'In the sauce, when I was adding the courgette,' he said. 'You don't mind? It hasn't done Ollie any harm, after all. And you said you wouldn't mind an inch or two more.' I was flabbergasted. At the same time, I was boiling up with the need for sex. And the thought that he had expected it, too. After all, you can't do an experiment if you don't make careful observations. 'Shall we see if it's done anything yet?' I asked, standing up. He leant across the table and unbuttoned my jeans. My dick sprung free — I've taken to going commando — and stood proud, solid and purple, a few inches above my ice-cream bowl. It was too tempting not to — I angled my hips downward and stuck my throbbing knob into those big blobs of sweet icy goo. It was colder than I'd expected- the sensation was amazing, as it ran down my shaft and dripped onto my shaven balls. Frosty and smooth. Stephan let out a long sigh. 'Delicious,' he said. 'Any bigger than you remembered?' I asked him. 'I'd forgotten that girth...' he said. Then he shoved his chair back, grabbed either side of the table to steady himself, and leant across for a lick. Hot tongue, cold cream, solid muscle through slippery goo, sliding up pulsing, sensitive, throbbing man meat. God, I'd missed him. Every time I'd fucked with someone new. Good as it was, it wasn't somebody who knew what I liked. I felt a pang of emotion go through me. 'We're not getting serious, are we?' I asked, breathless. 'I'm always serious about things I put in my mouth,' he said, and I could see the sex drunkenness coming over him. He leant in and sucked on my big prick with a sudden rush of sex hunger. I grabbed the back of his head and slid my dick home to the back of his throat. Nobody else has ever been able to take it. Even when I did it this time, he had to gasp for breath afterwards. 'It's all coming back to me now,' he said. I slid my hands down into his shirt, remembering too: remembering how he loved my hands on his nipples, tugging and teasing them. He gave a soft grunt, and leant in to swallow my dick down to the base again. 'Wow,' he said. 'It's amazing how you're shaven. I can cram it in even further.' He went down for another go, as if to demonstrate. 'I've learnt a thing or two,' I said, 'having joined the porn industry.' 'You already knew all you needed to know,' he said, after another long gulp on my dick. He sat back in his seat and looked up at me. I folded my arms. 'Maybe not.' 'It's good to know you're never satisfied.' 'Maybe you just couldn't satisfy me,' I said. He pulled his t-shirt off over his head. His long curly hair was dusting his shoulders. Behind the kitchen smells, I could smell the bittersweet tang of perspiration and cologne. I could smell it because I had my hands on the chair-back and I was leaning in, kissing him, my hands on the chair. 'PLINK-PLONK!' said the laptop. He rolled toward me, still more drunkenly, rolling his body towards my touch. I concentrated on exploring his mouth with my tongue, fighting his with mine, licking the residue of ice cream and banana from his teeth. He was writhing now, eager for me to lay hands on him, so I drew back, and kissed him delicately on the lips. Now he swivelled on his seat and arrogantly pulled down his jeans and boxers so that his hard dick sprang up, smelling sweet and inviting as that particular kind of coffee bean he had bought once, the one that tasted of Jaffa oranges growing on mountainsides somewhere where the sun was burning, the coffee that was still in the cupboard, waiting for him to come back. I inhaled that sweet scent of a cock begging to be taken in the mouth and — just kissed him, lightly at the side of his mouth this time, then on his soft, smooth throat. He was in a fury of need now, and he put both hands on the back of my head and forced me down toward his cock. I wanted to swallow it up, I wanted to take it down to the back of my throat, but I knew what I was doing. I stuck out my tongue and let it slide down that angrily hard prick as if it were an ice-cream to be slowly savoured. 'Fucker,' he said, and moved his hands down to caress my neck, then kneading my shoulders, entreating me to answer his lust. I ran my tongue even slower back up his shaft, towards the head. I lingered just below the head, and then in one very slow, very deliberate, very firm movement, I licked his glans with the flat of my tongue. 'Christ,' he said, and I watched a fat blob of precum well up out of his piss slit and tremble like a dew drop. 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' I bent in and stuck my tongue deep in, hard against the root of his cock, lapping hard at the area between his balls. I could smell that precum now. I licked back up and in one, two swirls I cleaned that precum away, and then I was back down at the root again. He reached for his cock but I grabbed his arm and pulled it away. He leant back proffering his arsehole now, and this I decided was a good idea, and set to work in there. More smells, and that amazing smoky taste in there. I felt his heels come to rest on my shoulders. 'That's more like it,' he said, sleepily. There was lube in my rear pocket, and I squelched it all over my fat, throbbing dick till it was slick as buggery. I was achingly hard in my hand, almost numb with pleasure. I settled back on my heels, my dick standing up and out of my jeans trousers like a Robert Mapplethorpe picture, except this dick was in colour, and it was warm and it was quivering. I saw Stephan's hand go for his cock again but I growled, 'No touching.' 'Please,' he said. 'I need it.' 'You want my big hard dick?' 'No,' he said, 'I don't want it. I need it. I need it now.' I ran my cockhead around the perimeter of his arsehole. 'You need this?' 'Fill me up,' he said. 'You sure?' 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' He laughed. 'That's you told.' I fucked him slowly, just how he liked, in the kitchen chair. He scrabbled at my shirt tweaking my tits through the plaid material. Grabbing at my balls as they slabbed against his arsecheeks. He scratched his beard and sat back, looking relaxed, like a whore on his day off. 'Come on, Tommy, you can go deeper than that,' he teased. I smacked his arse smartly with my right hand and set to a faster rhythm. Big-hard-dick, big-hard-dick, sat-is-fy me, sat-is-fy me. Satis-fy me. Satis-fy me. Satisfy, satisfy, satisfy, satisfy, Big. Biggg. Dick. Dick. Dick. 'Oh yeah,' he said. 'You're doing it now.' I lifted his thighs higher to improve my angle (tall guys need extra work) and he was nearly upside down, hanging on to my shirt like a mountaineer. Button by button it began to tear. His cute little round tummy, the sort that only someone in their thirties who has begun to relax about life can have, wobbled deliciously as I banged him, I banged him, I nearly broke my kitchen chair. Dicking him, dicking, big — hard — dicking him. 'Satisfy me, Stephan,' I said, snarling, the voice I'd begun to take on after a couple of nights' hard scrutiny of porn films. His eyes suddenly widened. 'Tom!' he gasped. 'I think it's working! Holy fucking mother of fuck, I can feel your dick getting even bigger -- inside my arse!' The surprise took the snarl out of me, and then suddenly, yes, I could feel it. I've always been pretty proud of my big dick. Now I felt like I had a log sticking out of my fly. 'Yeah,' I said. 'Yeah! Just like your boyfriend!' 'You're my boyfriend, idiot!' he said. 'Oh god, though, I don't know if I can — I don't know if I can take you, this size!' His eyes were watering. 'Take it, Stephan,' I said, slamming it home slowly, steadily but mercilessly. 'Take that extra huge hard cock!' 'PLINK-PLONK!' And then I realised I was big enough suddenly that I could fuck him and, quite casually, lean across and suck on his cock. At last I allowed myself the taste of that policeman cock, and the precum that kept brimming up and spilling down his cock, and I reached across and pinched his left tit, and suddenly — Suddenly I could feel a giant fuckstick deep in my arsehole, while my dick was getting serviced, and I wanted my tits to be felt up, and I realised I was seeing things through Steve's eyes. Some sort of magic had occurred. And Jesus Christ, but it was true about my dick. It was enormous. Not only that, but my chest had broadened and my lumberjack shirt was filled out with more muscle than before. Where he'd torn it open, I could see the deeper crease between my pecs, a fresh sprouting of dark hair. He wouldn't have seen the difference, but having been to the gym that afternoon I knew — I knew that I'd grown, just a little, in every muscle, since I started fucking him. Since I drank that potion. I could feel Stephan's concern for Olly now. He knew it was the potion. The stuff Doctor O was producing. He'd seen and tasted and felt the effects of it, first hand (and first arse). And even though I got an image of Olly in my Stephan's mind's eye, and even though he looked fucking hot, like Colby Keller on steroids but English and straight, still I realised he'd want to fuck him. He wanted to protect him. Protect him in a way that he never thought to do when it was me and him. With me and him, he wanted risk, danger, illicit pleasure. That ruled everything. He wanted to be dominated by a massive cock and covered in spunk. And Tom could never give him that. Tom was a sweet, mild-mannered GP. He was gentle. He was nice. He didn't want to play games or get dirty or dangerous or wrong. Till tonight. I looked up at the new Tom and he looked back at me, teeth grit in his beard (so much smaller and neater than Olly's), his arm muscles locked (they were so sweet compared to Olly's, they were the first flush of muscle gain), his nipples stuck out proud from his ripped shirt, and sweat was soaking his chest hair, and his giant dong, half the size of Olly's, but then, what could you do with a dick that big, his giant dong sliding in and out of me, and his hand pumping on my dick. We were both feeling that we'd arrived at a new place together. A place where we could lose control. And I could feel all the minds of the viewers at home. I could feel them wanking their dicks or finger-fucking their pussies, hundreds of them. I could feel each one as they approached their vinegar strokes, watching us go at it hammer and tongs. I could see you, dear reader. I could feel your heart beat. I could feel you nearing the edge, losing yourself in the fuck, the wank, the emotion. And then of course we were cumming — them and you and him and I, and for a minute there, we didn't know who was who, we were both howling with pleasure, and the bitterness was all over my tongue and lips, and I was spunking so hard, and he was licking his lips and we were absolutely drenched, drenched in our spunk. 'PLINK-PLONK!' applauded the viewers through Tom's laptop. And I'm writing this upstairs at Mum and Dad's. I'm Stephan. I remember now. I'm Stephan, and Tom was my boyfriend. I didn't realise he felt that way about me. I didn't realise there was anything to go back to there. And now he knows how I feel about Olly. And downstairs, the doorbell has just rung.
  13. THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. But Stephan's sex addiction to sex leads to him losing his job - and breaking up with from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate: muscle, height, cock, hair, character. Where will it end? Hakan's new boss/lover wants to see how far Olly pushes Stephan and vice versa. Tom is still sexting Stephan at night. And when Olly tries to get Stephan started at his gym, it seems a very mysterious set-up, perhaps run exclusively by gay men: but why? Chapter 9 is here. 10 Olly Friday October 5th 'You've changed...' Everybody's saying it suddenly. But is it true? Here I am in the same room in the same house that I wrote this diary in, in January and in July. These are the same hands that wrote it, though less delicate somewhat (in a spot of anger the other day, I snapped my biro), and although I had to cut off my charity bands and friendship bracelet (the one Sophie gave me, that night in midsummer) it was out of necessity, not bad feeling or trying to forget. I'd still support those charities, I still want that friendship. I still listen to Green Day, even if I split their band t-shirt open in a sweaty tangle the other, while I was hyper-pumped from shoulder presses and barbell curls. I still read New Scientist's updates religiously every morning. I still think, hey, I could get a job at one of the big observatories. In fact, I can't think of a more perfect life than just working out, eating big, staring at the stars and learning more about them. The essentials. I can see myself there in thirty years time, thinking just the same things. Fuck, how big will I be by that time...? 'You've changed.' Sophie said it in a text. It was her last word on the subject. She wants us to have a trial separation, or get some air, or something prim and proper that's just masking the fact she doesn't want me in her life any more. She can't come out with it, she can't get down to the essentials the way I can. She's so nice about it, so sweet and gentle, and it drives me mad. If that's the way I used to be, back when I was little and fluffy and thought crunches were something you ate with a dip, well, I'm glad that I've changed. She just wanted to talk, not cuddle. Then she was persuaded that cuddling was 'nice'. Then she got curious about feeling how big my arms had got: could she fit both hands around one (duh, no), and she wanted to see how massive my abs are now. She wanted to see how I can make my pecs dance to any song she could think of (she chose an Ed Sheeran song, naturally). She was asking what it is that makes a guy get hairy. She knew she was getting me hot. I knew she was getting wet. Then she wants to fuck. Of course, she wants to fuck. She does a double-take when I release the Anaconda, but then she gets a smile on her face. She's so excited about my size, in every possible way. Suddenly, something in sweet, little Miss Perfect is set free. I know all the family are downstairs getting dinner ready, I know they can all hear me and it's not what nice middle class twenty-one year olds do, but I've got the red mist and she's on heat. The pair of us are going at it like a couple of animals. She's practically falling off the bed, she's got her fists bunched in my beard to hold herself in position, I'm basically tearing her nice, tasteful blouse apart to get at her, I'm getting my tongue everywhere, I'm ripping up her panties and lifting her up so that her lady garden is there on my slobbery, blonde bushy chin, up to my lips, and I'm working my fingers inside her arse. She deserves everything I can give her. If my brother did come to the door, the way I imagined him doing, he must have thought it was a scene out of 10,000,000 BC. I was devoting myself to her like she was a goddess and I was a goatherd living in the wilderness. Or a donkey boy, I guess. That's what she called me, as she came the second time (of five). She was like this new girl, begging me to do her like one animal does another -- but apparently that's my fault. Apparently I made that happen, just because I work out now. Just because I show her what life's really all about. After we both came a few times, I had to head straight out to the gym for my evening routine. Maybe that's what she didn't like. Where does she think her he-man got his stuff...? I've changed, apparently. And she can't take me. 'You've changed!' When the Beast says it, it's a good thing. That doesn't make it any less significant. He said it this morning. He gave a slow whistle, and he laughed. We were coming straight out of the gym, after a hard round of work. God, but my whole body was exhausted, every muscle aching, pulsing, throbbing: sweat was streaming down our backs, pecs, thighs. My arms were feeling especially jacked — I couldn't bend one enough to scratch an itch on my own shoulder — and he was checking out his own massive boulder shoulders. 'I have to capture this moment, bro,' he said, getting out his phone. 'Come on, shoulder to shoulder. Dude, you finally caught me up.' And he snapped us in the mirror, like a pair of giants, one fair, one dark. One of them who is now just slightly, even more ripped, even wider, even taller, than the other. But out of politeness I didn't like to point this out. 'Shit just got real,' he said, showing me the picture. 'You gonna put that on the site?' I said, resisting the urge to point out my slight advantage. Maybe the strangers who comment on there would point it out for him. 'Muscle Worshippers?' I laughed. 'You're not obsessed with any other website.' That's when he gave me that look. 'You've changed, bro,' he said, and laughed. 'You can say that again,' I said, running my hands over my taut physique. 'I'm twice the boy I used to be. I'm five times!' 'Yeah, that's the obvious stuff,' he said. 'You got the goods. Anyone can see that. But something more. You like to show it off now, don't you?' 'Hey,' I said. 'It's not vanity. I worked hard for this.' 'Like a shire horse,' he said. 'But admit it. You get a kick out of it.' 'Not like you,' I said, turning away to mask my hard-on. 'Maybe,' he grinned. 'Dude, I love to see those poofters pop a boner in the group showers, just because I've come in. I'm like a god to them. I love it. Did I tell you I got paid to appear at this special club the other day?' 'No way. What for?' 'Nothing really,' he said. 'It was at this pub over in East London. I haven't told anybody else this.' 'Go on,' I said, chugging down my protein shake. He sat down beside me on the bench and lowered his voice. 'They contacted me via the website. Well, you can send private messages. Normally it's stuff about how inferior they are, how they want me to come and piss on them, or just let them wank off while I watch. Oh, and then there's at least one every couple of days from a guy who wants me to fuck his girlfriend.' My eyes went saucer-wide. 'What? Why?' 'Duh, man. Because they get off on it!' I laughed. 'The world's gone mad.' 'Yeah, I know. I've thought about it, but I think — well, it would interfere with my regime. And Estelle might take it the wrong way. Anyway, this special club meets in this pub, The Black Swan. They have blinds over all the windows, and lights like some nightclub, and there's a stage. And that's where they have me.' 'What,' I said, 'like, making a speech?' 'You are green, aren't you?' He began peeling off his shorts. 'They get me up there in a posing pouch. I show off what I've got.' He balled up his jockey shorts, sodden with sweat, and threw them in his kit bag. My mouth was dry, picturing him doing it. 'Like a stripper?' 'Well, more tasteful than that, of course,' he said. 'Plus, all I take off is my posing pouch. Hardly a routine.' He licked his lips. 'The thing they're really interested in is my strength, my power, my size. I let them have a bit of a feel. Of my guns, that is.' 'You don't get your cock out, then?' I joked, but I must have said it too loud because he looked round wildly, then laughed at himself. 'Well,' he said, 'when they're so enthusiastic, it's a shame to disappoint. And my wang's never disappointed anyone. Look at it. Like a rolled up newspaper!' He leapt up and waggled it in my face, his fist full of pink sweaty meat. 'Urgh! Fuck off!' I yelled, laughing. He stopped waggling, and just stood there with his hands on his hips, waiting for me to undress too. 'And now you're thinking of Muscle Worshippers too.' 'Shall we get in those showers?' I said. 'But,' he said, 'you're thinking of it?' 'Not me,' I said. Now that I think of it, the gay police guy who's always eyeing me up, Stephan, he said the same thing again. Like he ever had any idea what I'm like. The only time he ever spoke to me was that day I first met Nico, and he was so nice and kind and reassuring. All he wanted was my skinny arse. He liked it when he was a couple of feet taller than me, when he was the stronger guy, the hairier guy, the bigger man. And yeah, maybe he liked it at first when I started to change. He would always stop for a chat, always compliment me on my gains. I used to look forward to it. Even when I realised he fancied me, I was cool with that. I even took him to the gym. Hooked him up with Doctor O. I was looking forward to training with him. I knew he'd appreciate the amount of hard work I was putting in. I knew he'd want me even worse, if he saw me like I am in the gym, my veins standing out, my muscle pumped up and hard. And I guess he'd train with me, he'd get bigger. I was looking forward to seeing what he made of himself. Yeah, I suppose I really thought a lot of Stephan. In he came this lunchtime, and pretended to borrow some books. I know he doesn't care what he's taking out. I can see in his eyes, all he wants is some time looking me over, checking out how much mass I've gained since I last saw him. 'Whoa,' he said, adjusting his glasses. 'Hey dude,' I said, going through the motions with his books. 'Your boss really lets you dress like that?' he said. 'At work?' I looked down at myself. Another gym singlet. Once upon a time it would have been loose on me, but now it's stretched tight, and my chest stands pretty much proud of it. It's like a cotton breastplate or something. I laughed. 'He understands. I've gone through my whole wardrobe now. Nothing fits any more.' 'Perhaps I should lend you something.' 'No, don't worry,' I said, quickly. 'I mean, look at me.' He could hardly stop. 'Yes,' he said, 'I suppose it's true. You'd never fit in anything I've got now. Even my actual wardrobe would probably strain.' I smiled at his joke, but I was feeling slightly embarrassed. He used to be the ultimate alpha male, tall and strong and ex-police, and now look at him — dwarfed by a guy who's barely out of his teens. He didn't deserve to be made to feel small. I handed him back his books, wondering what to say. He suddenly cleared his throat, sort of decisively. 'Olly,' he said, 'What about that arm wrestle you promised me?' I didn't know what to say, and we both burst out laughing. 'Are you serious?' I said. I mean, he's in okay shape, but he's not packing even half the horse power up my sleeves. It was like he was asking for a smack-down. 'Maybe,' he said, 'Maybe not. But how do you feel about meeting up after work? I'll buy you a drink to celebrate your latest — growth spurt.' I lowered my gaze shyly. 'That's kind of you, man, but I don't drink alcohol. It's bad for my regime.' 'Well, an orange juice, then,' he said. 'You can't refuse that. At the Crown and Greyhound, six o'clock.' I guess I liked the idea of it. Especially after I saw a couple of the lads last week and things didn't go the way I planned. Fucking jealous little pricks. They wouldn't say anything outright but I saw it in their eyes. Couldn't believe I was the same person. Just because I've got something real and serious in my life now — just because I'm working hard at something. Just because each them wishes their forearm was even the size of my dick. Well, if the old crowd are going to be that way, it's good to have a friend, and it's especially good to have a friend like him — a real man. He may be a poof, but he's got balls. At least, that's how I felt this afternoon. Anyway, I could tell he had something to talk to me about. 'Olly,' he said, getting straight to the point. 'What's all this for?' I nearly spat out my OJ. 'The fuck, dude?' I said. 'Okay, okay,' he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 'It was just a question. This has happened so fast, son. One minute you're a cute — okay, a sweet, normal-looking guy. Daniel Radcliffe lookalike. You wouldn't be able to carry a weights set home from Argos, let alone lift them. An average lad. Fast forward a few months... You're one of the biggest, strongest, most physically powerful guys I've ever seen in the flesh. You're hairier than I'll ever be. And as for your confidence -' I suppressed a smile at his words. He went on. 'Months ago you had these skinny arms, more baby fat than muscle. Now, each of your biceps is bigger than my head. Your chest is just fucking ridiculous. You've gone from being a kitten to a big, fucking jungle cat, Olly — the way you move, the way you look at people, the weight of you...' 'It's who I really am,' I told him, lifting my singlet to show him the thick corrugated ridges of my abs. I saw his eyes start out of his head. Luckily, we were sitting in the beer garden, and nobody was around to think it gay. 'I was always this big guy on the inside.' 'But where does it stop?' I brushed my fringe out of my eyes. 'It doesn't have to stop. I just keep getting bigger and I keep getting stronger. I get broader, thicker, heavier, more cut, more vascular. My appetite for muscle grows every day.' 'Doesn't that scare you?' 'No,' I said, downing the rest of my orange juice and slamming it onto the pub table. 'Well...' I didn't know what to say. I looked at my gorilla sized hand around the glass. 'Maybe a bit. But it's hard to tell if it's fear or just excitement. I'm becoming something amazing. It's the biggest turn on, man.' He took that in, then did a deep breath through his nostrils. 'What do your friends say?' 'You mean the weak little pussies I used to hang out with or the guys at the gym?' He considered. 'Whoever your friends are, I suppose.' 'My real friends support me. They tell me how great I'm looking, but they also see how much further I have to go.' 'I want to know that you're healthy. You've grown so fast. I'd like a friend of mine to take a look at you,' he said. I squeezed my cock, secretly, below the table. 'Really.' 'Not — like that,' he said hastily. 'He's a doctor.' 'I work with a Doctor,' I said, impatiently, as if this whole thing was too much effort — which it was. I wasn't expecting to be interrogated. I just thought he'd be getting off on my size, like normal. 'Yes,' he said. 'Doctor O. I've, ahem, encountered him.' 'Then you should understand,' I said. 'It's hypertrophy, Steve. It's natural. Scientific.' I put my hands behind my head as if I was just relaxing, as if I didn't realise how it showed me off. Behind his glasses I could see his eyes following the lines of my triceps, my biceps, my lats, flicking back to my eyes constantly, hoping I wouldn't notice. 'Lift heavy, rest hard, eat big...' 'Does the Doctor give you supplements?' 'Just his protein shake,' I said. 'I'll show you. No steroids. No drugs. I wouldn't be so fucking proud of myself if that's all it took.' I put the flask on the pub table. Stephan wrinkled his nose. 'But why is he doing this with you?' 'The same reason you want me to,' I said. 'And what's that?' 'To see my full potential,' I said. Slowly I took the cotton of the singlet between my fingers and thumbs and I ripped it down the middle, unveiling the might of me, the sweaty dark hair of me, the meat of me, the stink of me. Stephan was watching, lower lip trembling. 'To see all the stuff a young lad hides while he stays small. To feel just a little inferior. Unless you want to come and train with me, take me on...?' 'Chance would be a fine thing,' he said, seemingly entranced by my body. 'I got in touch with Doctor O. I wanted to know he has your best interests at heart. And you know what? He warned me off.' I licked my fingertips and began glossing up my nipples. 'That's bullshit.' He was breathing deep now, trying to keep his composure. 'He doesn't want me to come near you any more, Stephan. He's experimenting on you. He's trying to create some sort of a — muscle beast.' 'Mission accomplished.' I flicked a finger against my squeezed bicep to show him how solid it was. 'Why won't you listen to me?' he snarled. He raised his hand: it would have been threatening if he hadn't been so much smaller than me. 'Stop acting like some muscle worshipping size queen. I saw you before you got into all....this.' He gestured at my abs, my thighs, my packet, my shoulders. 'Come on, Olly. You're bigger than this!' 'That's not how it works,' I told him, leaning across the table. 'Look at us now. This is a battle. And I've got all the power.' 'You really have changed,' he said. Bang, there it was. 'If that's true,' I said, 'it's for the best.' He stretched out with his hand, and I almost flinched, thinking he was going to try and land a punch on me, but instead he cupped his hand around my left pectoral. He squeezed it. I tensed it so he could see just how granite solid it was. I suddenly realised there was sweat on his brow. I could feel the moisture on his fingertips: he ran one softly over my left nipple. My tree-trunk dick throbbed in my jeans, longing to be set free. 'Dude,' I breathed, 'I like girls. You know that.' He released me. 'I just had to know what it felt like.' I took his hand in mine and pressed it to the table. With the other hand I reached under the table and rubbed my cock, longing for it to calm down. I love to feel the head of my semi, outlined through my jeans like the big round top of a freshly baked muffin. 'I get looks off guys all the time now. In the changing rooms, the library, the street, all the time. But this isn't about sex. This is about power.' 'That reminds me,' he said. 'How about this arm wrestle?' I burst out laughing. All the tension was gone. 'You really wanna be punished, don't you?' 'Hey,' he said, 'Never heard of David and Goliath?' I took one of his hands in my enormous mitt. I could feel the weight of him at the other end, could feel him take the strain. I decided to go easy on him. I screwed up my face and pushed, ever so gently. I felt him wrestling back against me with all his might. It was comical. The veins were popping out on his neck, and every fibre of muscle in his police sergeant forearm was pushing against me, and I was barely even trying. I loved this. If being praised for my gains was foreplay, this was like sex! A low guttural moan of pleasure came unexpectedly from the back of my throat. This seemed to prompt him into making more noise. 'Oh yeah,' he said, his teeth gritted, his hand wet with perspiration. 'Oh yeah, oh yeah.' I shook my head. 'You really want it, don't you?' I said. He looked into my eyes. 'Give me everything,' he said. I whirled him out of his seat. Effortlessly. A big guy but I flipped him like a pancake. He landed on the floor with a grunt. I got up and went over and stood over him. 'What's up, little man?' I said. 'Still want to complain about what a giant I am?' He leapt up and put both arms around my neck, tugging me to the ground. I hadn't expected that, and a big smile was on my face. We wrestled, or rather, I wrestled to pin him down, and he wrestled to get free. My dick was oozing precum at this. I was his master. He would obey me. At last, I pinned him to the floor with one hand on his chest. He looked angry, but I could also see his jeans tenting. I laughed. 'I wish I could oblige, man,' I said, 'but my Anaconda only goes one way.' 'Your dick's grown too?' He said, getting to his feet and steadying himself on the table. 'The holy grail. So what's your secret?' 'I'm young,' I said. He looked hurt at that. 'Fine. I guess you'll be off up Uranus again soon.' I looked at my watch, letting my forearm, pumped with exertion, fill his vision. 'Guess I am, little guy. It's been fun, though.' It was only after the evening work-out that I realised what had happened. 'That little prick,' I said, turning my bag inside. Nico — I can't call him the Beast any more, now that out of the two of us, I'm the bigger and hairier — was towelling off his glutes. 'Who?' 'The police guy. Stephan.' I was full of rage. 'He's taken it.' 'Taken what?' 'My shake,' I said. 'He must have slipped it into his bag while I was gloating in the beer garden this afternoon. What am I going to do now? Buy something from a shop that's loaded with corn starch? Fuck myself up?' I punched a locker with fury. I was slightly taken aback to see the metal crumple under my blow. I tried to calm myself. I could do some real damage now. If Stephan had actually been there... 'Whoa! Dude!' Nico put a hot hand on my ginormous shoulder. 'Come home with me. I've got boxes of the stuff in the cellar.' 'You have?' Nico grinned. 'You know how close Doctor O is to my Dad, don't you? And Dad would love to meet you.' I swallowed, suddenly nervous. I was actually being invited back to Nico's place. I was going to meet his Dad, see his place — and finally be reunited with Estelle. Estelle! How many nights had I dreamt of this moment. No, not dreamt — fantasised over, pumping my hard cock in the privacy of my bedroom, imagining the moment I finally undid the humiliation of that summer's day in the library, that day that feels so far away. When I was just a boy, smooth-cheeked, fluffy-haired, little-dicked, puny little Olly. When Nico stood over me, showing off his stuff, and she was there, leaking pussy juice at the very sight of it. Estelle! At last I would show her what a real man looks like. My heart was pounding like I'd just done a hard cardio session. I pulled my hoody over my gym vest and followed Nico through the village, almost hoping she wouldn't be there. But sure enough, she was there at the door to meet us. She did a double take when she saw me. 'You've changed!' she giggled. 'Fuck me!' 'If you say so,' I said, blushing through my beard. She licked her lips and looked me up and down. 'Nico said you were hitting the gym with him. I'd never have expected such a transformation. Well done you!' 'Do you approve?' I asked her. We were standing in the hallway. Nico was kicking off his shoes. He stopped to hear her reaction. She looked me up and down, then looked at him, then back at me. 'Were you born in a barn?' called a man's voice from the kitchen. ' What are the pair of you doing out there?' It was deep and resonant and cultured. Nico's Dad. I'd forgotten he'd be here. 'I brought Olly back,' called Nico. 'Is there some reason he can't come into the house?' Nico looked at me, and we both laughed. I followed him into the house while Estelle closed the door behind us. I gave her a backward glance, and caught her looking at me strangely, like she was still considering about my question. My beating heart gave my dick gave a little pump of excitement. The game was on. Oh, I didn't say anything about Nico's house. It's amazing. Got to be Victorian, but it felt so beautifully warm and stylish. The bare boards gleaming, huge modern art canvases on the walls, and the kitchen was one of those big ones with an island in the middle. Nico's Dad was preparing dinner, a handsome man somewhere in his fifties, an impressive figure with a mane of hair just beginning to go salt and pepper and a beard that was bigger than mine — but carefully combed and coiffed. Everything about him was a little bigger than mine, in fact — he was like a small giant, in charcoal grey jogging bottoms and a Uranus gyms t-shirt. Taller even than Stephan, who thinks he's all that. He was adding spices to a big pan of chilli. 'Hey Olly,' he said breezily, 'Good to meet you at last. How's things?' I'm never good with meeting other people's parents, although Nico's Dad put me at my ease more than is usual. I told him things were pretty good — leaving out the stuff about Sophie and Stephan. Nico told him about the drink — leaving out the fact it was stolen by an ex-copper after a wrestling match in the local pub's beer garden. 'Oh, I thought you were staying to dinner,' said Nico's Dad, looking disappointed. 'I've got plenty.' 'Go on,' said Estelle and Nico at once, then both giggled shyly. They were like a pair of conspirators all through the evening. I kept trying to catch Estelle's eye, and I pulled off most of my usual tricks — folding my hands behind my head, which spread me open at my widest and most massive — cracking nutshells in one hand — lifting my shirt to scratch my monstrous, hairy abs. I even took off my hoodie, telling the table the spicy food was getting me overheated. And as I sat there in my gym vest, looming over Nico, dwarfing the furniture, my bulging musculature glinting with a little perspiration in the candlelight (yes, the food was spicy) I could feel the other diners stealing glances at me, all of them, wondering at me, what I had been and what I had become. But Estelle and Nico carried on with their conversation. Nico's Dad leant across and brushed my hand with his huge paw. 'Won't you get cold like that?' he said, parentally. 'Not really,' I said. 'I'm always a little, you know, overheated.' 'Your metabolism must be utterly raging,' he said. 'Nico told me himself, he's amazed at your rate of hypertrophy. I can see what he means.' I smiled shyly. 'Nico's been a great coach,' I said. 'And a little friendly rivalry goes a long way,' Nico's Dad replied, with a smile. 'Particularly when there's a pretty young woman in the frame.' I looked back across at Estelle. 'I can't lie,' I said. 'But now — oh, I don't know.' 'Now you've realised that's not what's driving you,' he said. 'It's a personal thing, not a vendetta. It's one of the good things in your life.' I smiled at him. 'Thanks. It's nice to hear someone talk about it positively for a change. My friends...' 'They'll stay your friends. They'll realise this is part of who you are. And the more you like you being who you are — sorry, I'm preaching,' he said. 'But you know, personal development has been a big part of my life. Uranus is mine, after all.' 'Really?' I breathed. 'You own the whole gym?' 'You didn't know?' He patted my shoulder. 'Yes, it's my baby.' 'It's an amazing place,' I said. 'I think I love it.' 'You go well together,' he said. 'You're like me. You have good genes. Bricks that are just waiting to be built into a fortress. It's not the same for everyone.' He thought for a moment. 'I delivered a paper on this, only last year.' Suddenly we were talking science. We were talking about things I never discuss with anybody. Biology. Geology. Quantum mechanics. Most of the time this sort of conversation goes over people's heads, and I hide that side of myself — but just like with the skimpy little vest, I was showing off another side of myself tonight. I had never felt such kinship with another man. Now we began to go deeper. We talked about that feeling of reaching for something only you can — about the depths of masculinity we were plumbing — about sex and power and size, size, size... 'I feel a bit rude sitting here in my gym clothes,' I confessed. 'But I outgrew everything I have in my wardrobe.' 'Those things belong to a different person,' he said. 'And you're being born into a new life. It's only right that you should be bursting out of your clothes, revealing your body to the world. We should be able to look at one another that way.' I looked at the curve of his musculature in that Uranus gyms shirt and thought about seeing one another 'that way'. I looked across at Nico and Estelle and imagined all four of us stripping off and rolling around on the floor. I almost didn't notice when dessert was served — baked figs and mascarpone. At the end of the night, I shook hands with Estelle graciously. If there was a trace of lust in her eyes, I tried to ignore it. Nico's Dad used my proffered hand to draw me into a great big bear hug. His beard meshed with mine and I could smell his cologne. I could feel the solidity of his body, I knew which individual body parts were which. I could feel the huge bulge of his cock in his jogging bottoms. It rubbed against mine and, for a moment, I felt both of them swell a little in excitement. Quickly we broke apart. Nico patted my back. 'I'm so glad you guys got along,' he said, ginning. Then suddenly his eyes went wide. 'Your drink!' he said, and ran off to the cellar. 'You should come over on Sunday,' Nico's Dad said, impulsively. 'You can't go around wearing vest tops and nothing else. And what happens when you bust out of those? I'll ask Nico to dig out a few old things of his.' 'Okay,' I said. It was all I could do to get my lips to move, the breath to move in my throat. Stupid, I guess. I mean, come on, it's just hero worship. No big deal. It doesn't mean I've changed particularly. It doesn't mean anything. Nothing at all.
  14. Alfazent's College for Young Men Part 2

    Hey guys! Sorry about the wait and the short chapters. I have an overarching story planned, but the execution has proved challenging. I hope you like the new Keith, who seems surprisingly close to the statue... Last chapter: The stone doors closed behind him, a monstrous maw closing him in, but he barely noticed. He was transfixed by the sight before him. From the cobbled wall opposite him, two half pipes curved towards the center of the cavern. There, a grand structure of cracked marble stood, proud despite the test of time. The pipes lay on the edge of a round pool, and in the middle posed a statue of leviathan proportions. A man situated himself in the now dry fountain, supported by gargantuan legs. Wear had done nothing to hide the large, firm feet layered with sinew and muscle; nor the veins coursing up the cords of power that formed his calves and quads. Their shape was perfect, every shard of diamond flesh touched by the divine. A monstrous beauty sprung from where the legs met the waist, a thick and heavy rod of virility. A single vein ran its path around the beer can shank, crowning the head. The foreskin a royal cloak to its regal liege, it pointed towards Keith. The balls hung low and large, an engine to an incredible machine. The waist impossibly slim compared to the statue's quads, and yet the sense of imbalance did not present itself. A godly set of eight gemstones rose up to meet the pecs, massive jewels cut with sharp grooves. They were laid in golden shell of rock-hard obliques. The pecs square perfection, bulging mounds of strength with large round nipples. A thick muscle neck and hulking traps supported the head. The knife sharp jawline and handsome chin left Keith yearning to discover what possible face could complete the masterpiece. But the features above the jaw had faded, a jumble of indents and rough hewn edges. A tingling ran itself over Keith's skin, like it was going haywire. He walked slowly towards the fountain, taking in the withered vines that had taken root in the stone. A step away from the masculine masterpiece, his eyes were drawn to the statue's bulging outstretched arm. Atop the large palm, a shrunken bud began to shake. A flood of sudden green light exploded from the shoot. Pulses of energy shook the shrine, as it rejuvenated, expanding and growing. The leaves fell away to reveal a lotus like flower, thick rows of petals around a center. Blood red, it glowed with mysterious energy. The stigmas rose up, releasing a heavy scent that filled the room. 'leather and sweat,' Keith registered. A golden nectar flowed into the flower, the petals forming a natural cup. The heady musk enveloped his mind, blanketing Keith in a state of half consciousness. Gripping the hard forearm of the statue, he pulled himself towards the flower. His lips touched the flower and he drank. The liquid gold flowed into his mouth, bursting on his tongue. Oak and sweat dominated his taste buds, as if heaven had condensed inside. The salty drink cascaded down Keith's throat, seeping into his body.He started to glow bright white, and a searing heat enclosed his body. The flower shriveled as the last of it's yield entered Keith's mouth, and the burning sensation peaked. Pain forced him conscious, vaguely aware of his actions. He felt as if his body was being burnt away into nothingness, and yet he could not scream. His clothes disintegrated, revealing the his near emaciated form. A puny 3 inch boy dick hung out, hard as steel. Keith didn't know when the pain stopped and the pleasure began, but he was too overloaded to care. His balls began to change, expanding rapidly to the size of chicken eggs. His scrotum expanded to encompass them, hanging low. His cock was next, lurching forward as his foreskin regrew. A vein forced its way up the shaft, before hitting the large cock head. His balls visibly clenched as a steady flow of precum trickled down the newly christened foot long. Keith became acutely aware of the changes, how the euphoric sexual energy blasting through his body unstopped was changing him. Muscle fibers broke through his thin pale skin, wriggling for space. They grew greedily, wrapping his weak form with pure muscle. Quads formed, muscle cords snaking downwards. Pecs ballooned outward, expanding then condensing multiple times before forming hyper dense plates of power. His arms seized up as rigid bands of steel cord encased him. Abs that could crush mountains formed on his stomach, carving deeper and tensing harder. Shoulders bulged outward, struggling to maintain a connection between rapidly growing pecs, traps and biceps. The pleasure of his body expanding was too much, and Keith found a new voice within his corded neck and new Adam's apple. A resounding "FUCK!" echoed through the shrine, deep, commanding and intensely masculine. His head snapped back as his shoulders widened, accommodating the pulsing segments of his incredibly defined back. Keith's skull expanded to match the hulking proportions of his body, the jaw growing more square and cut than his new abs. The chin sculpted itself into , and masculine cheekbones poked through his new fact free face. The nose became straight and proud, the bridge perfectly thick. The acne scarring melted away, leaving smooth skin and a luscious tan. His brow became thick and prominent, and a manly layer of stubble coated Keith's jaw. He opened his eyes, revealing a deep piercing blue, shifting waves of green and aqua playing in the light. His hair thickened, voluminous and sexy. A Sandy blonde shade infused within the strands, growing them longer. It fell back in a mouthwatering combed over look, completing the immensely handsome face. A golden skin formed over Keith's new muscle, smooth and eye catching. Veins appeared under it, thick and powerful, in all the sexiest areas. Hair grew around the navel, thickening around the base of his cock, and a light dusting over Keith's pecs led inward to the crevice, where the hair traveled to connect to the navel. The armpits filled with a healthy bush of hair, crushed by his muscular arms and torso. The energy dissipated, releasing Keith from immobility, but left him sexually unsatisfied. Desire churned out from his balls, straight to his mind. He looked towards to door, where beyond lay a cranky old man who was suddenly looking very worthwhile.
  15. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 9 of 14

    Edited to add: THE STORY SO FAR - Stephan is a police officer with a very well-endowed boyfriend, Tom. Unfortunately, Stephan has an addiction to sex which leads to him losing his job - and then taking a break from Tom. While staying with his parents in a quiet corner of London, Stephan observes something exciting: an alpha muscle Beast humiliating a fluffy, gentle, weak young beta called Olly. Now, the Beast is helping Olly grow - and it's happening at an impossible rate. Where will it end? Does Olly need saving from himself? Is Stephan the right man to do it? Chapter 8 is here. 9 Stephan Wednesday October 1st Well, I'm absolutely spent. It's been one fucking thing after another today. It started at 5 a.m. when my phone buzzed on my bedside table. I was asleep, right in the middle of a beautiful dream about hot librarians who leant themselves to customers out along with the books, so I woke up with a big hard-on tenting my boxers. It turned out it wasn't about to go to waste. The text was from Tom. It's the first one in ages, certainly the first that wasn't about me coming round to pick up my stuff. It read, Thinking of you got my dick hard. Thought you should know x You woke me, I texted back. Been sat up in bed wondering what to do with it, he replied. Thought you'd have a suggestion I could have gently reminded him that when we separated we said we wouldn't do this, or anything like this, that we had to let the fire burn down again. I wouldn't have had to say even that: I could have shot back something simple and gently dissuading. I mean, come on, I only stopped seeing him a month ago! I could have rolled over there and then and gone back to sleep with a clean conscience and, admittedly, a disappointed penis. But all of that would require me to be a different man than the one I am. Need to know more first, I told him. The next text obviously took a little while to write. In my pyjamas, cotton, red stripes, starchy, you know. Rough on my skin. Waistband under my balls. Dick standing straight up. Very hard. I remembered that dick so well, with its elegant up curve and big round dome of a head. Have you applied lube? I asked. Don't have any, he said. Then: I think... Wait. Then: OK. Where? Just your hand for now, I said. The one not texting. He replied: Tricky procedure — but not for a GP :-) I wonder if this was something in the way of an audition. He was always showing off at how adept he was with handling stuff: dildos, vacuum pumps, drugs, not to mention the human body, which he claimed to know inside and out. I lay there, waiting, giving my shaft a tantalising tickle, thinking of Tom's tennis-trained, trim little physique, the way he barely came up to my shoulder, the way his fat cock looked so outsized on him, like a coffee pot spout. I thought about the things we sometimes got up to in his office when the door was locked. The tickle on my shaft irresistibly became a tug. Then my phone buzzed again. So I've got a palmful of KY Get that hand nice and slick. Then stick your thumb in your belly button If you say so I pictured the cute little guy doing as instructed, his brown eyes sleepy, his girthy dick pressing on his waistband. I had such a clear image of him I could almost smell the Jean Paul Gaultier on his neck, and the KY on his hand. Wrap your hand around your cock — if you can manage that Only just Yeah, I know baby Nearly broke your jaw on this didn't you? x Don't talk like I'm not experienced Oh, you succeeded where others gave up... I permitted myself a flashback to the first night Tom got his dick out. It was after dinner at his flat in Highgate, an almost formal occasion, like the unveiling of the Albert Memorial, only slightly wider. We'd both had a lot of wine and everything felt like it was happening in technicolour with violins playing. We were kissing on his sofa, and then I was unbuttoning his cotton, collarless shirt, and he was unbuttoning my starchy, uniform shirt. He came up to my chest, so was licking and biting my nipples, and we were kneading each other's dicks in each other's trousers; then I unbuttoned his trousers, carried on kissing him while I slowly wanked his fat prick and all the while, I was thinking, 'Holy fuck, I am onto something big here.' Fucking my fist. Is that what you planned? Yeah. Feel good? There was a pause. I pictured him in his big white bedroom giving a few more testing thrusts before replying. Oh fuck yeah. I never tried this before Suddenly he sounded so innocent, and I felt sexually precocious, and I thought of my Librarian. I've reread the pages I've written about him, and I keep coming back to that thought when I first saw him, the cute, middle class, blue-eyed lad: What is it in me that wants to take that innocence and ruin it? Even as he puts on real muscle. Especially as he puts on that muscle. He thinks he's becoming a man, but he's still soft shell. He's never been fucked. I wonder if he's ever actually fucked, really, losing himself in it? Has he ever even wanked himself like this? With the dedication all on his cock, and his imagination on fire, and then - I could give him seminars. He'd thank me for it. There's all sorts of things a young man like that ought to know about giving pleasure — and receiving it. I thought, Why can't he text me at 5 a.m. wanting ideas on what to do with his dick? When the next message came through, I let myself imagine for a second it was Olly sending it, in the middle of the night. The message was perfectly appropriate. It would feel better if it was your arse I was fucking Spontaneously the thought made me blob out a little pre-cum. I'm dripping at the thought, I said. I bet you fuck hard Oh yes. Think you could take me? I could just picture the librarian saying this with his new, gym-worn cockiness. If I can't, I want to know. I began to wank my dick a little harder, smearing precum over the head and down the shaft. The bedsprings creaked, louder than I intended, as I beat my meat. Next to me, a sleepy Turkish chef began to surface. I want you to wreck me if necessary, I texted as quick as I could, before lying still, playing the innocent. 'Hey, man,' Hakan slurred, reaching out to fondle my thigh. He found my dick hard and my hand around it, and laughed. 'Hold it,' he murmured. 'I can step in here...' I palmed my phone (benefit of big hands it turns out) and hid it in the folds of the duvet. I let go of my dick and allowed Hakan to grab hold of it, grasping it firmly, wanking it quicker than I'd been doing it, his fist grinding down toward my balls in a way I never think to do, lightly knocking on them and making my hard-on stand out even harder and straighter in his hand. It was the businesslike wank of a friend, so different from the dreamish wank I'd give myself, potentially for hours. My phone buzzed secretly in my palm. Hakan, oblivious, kept up the pace. I looked across at him. His eyes were closed, his long lashes on his cheekbones like shadows, and small smile on his face. 'How's that?' 'Oh yeah, you're getting me close. You know, you don't have to...' 'I want to hear you cum, my friend.' He licked his lips. 'I like that sound you make.' 'Oh, yeah,' I grunted, as his relentless wank took my dick into second gear. 'You're gonna hear it.' 'Okay,' he whispered, 'Now I wanna taste it. I like the taste even better.' 'Yes, taste it,' I said, excited and awake suddenly. Did I dare? I couldn't resist. He opened his eyes long enough to peck me on the lips, then slid down under the duvet and took my cockhead in his sleep-warm mouth. I felt the suck as he released it, took it again, a little deeper, and released it, slowly working his way, inch by inch, to taking the whole thing. With him occupied, I took the opportunity to look at the latest text. I don't wanna destroy you — you deserve something gentler I rolled my eyes. I could just hear Olly telling me that. Stop being so fucking polite You want it to be nasty? Hakan was halfway to taking all my cock. He slowed down, his lips gliding on a layer of spit, slowly caressing my shaft. When he reached my cockhead his mouth corkscrewed back and forth, slower and slower, making me pulse harder and hotter than ever inside his lips. I just want you to take out all you need upon me, I told him. I could see the Librarian receiving my text. Thinking for the first time about being selfish, about how he would do it and why. Thinking about what he really needed. In that case I don't want to fuck your arse, read the reply, and my heart skipped a beat. The follow up came through: First I want to fuck your face. I'm on my knees, I told him. No. Lie down. I'll kneel astride you My mouth is open Take this fat cock Hakan spat down my shaft. I felt the spit roll in beads and bubbles down my hot skin. I pictured the Librarian, his big hairy legs either side of me, and the cock I had imagined for him, stuffed into my mouth, which distorted with the size of it. I can barely breathe, I texted. I'm putting my fat cock down your throat deeper with each thrust I needed that sort of power applied to my dick. I reached under the duvet, put my hand on the back of Hakan's head and held him down on my hard erection till I heard him begin to gag, then grabbed his long hair in my fist and lifted him off me, my dick still resting between his lips. I raised my hips and frotted my cockhead on his lips. 'Mm, yes,' I heard him say, and his fingers encircled the base of my cock. I pushed him down again, till his mouth was on his knuckles. Inside hand and lips and curling tongue, I thrust my dick gently: eat, eat, eat. With the other hand, I told Olly: I'm struggling to get up Well, I'm pinning you down You can do it with one hand I could almost feel my Librarian's hand on my chest, his sweaty palm effortlessly matching my stretch and keeping me on the carpet. Yes, the phone screen read. I'm wanking my cock with the other and precum is drooling onto your lips I imagined its splash. You don't want to fuck me, I said. A long pause this time. I listened to the slick noises from under the duvet, felt Hakan sucking and slowly nibbling. I don't? Olly would be looking at me with that dazed, don't-comprehend, don't want to be rude expression. You just want to fuck, I explained. Oh yes. I could see him, that gentle young man, growing so much more powerful, and his eyes slightly dazed from the lust of sex, his mouth slightly open at the surprise of being told: do what ever feels good. He continued: Jesus my balls are so heavy. It has to be tonight My hand was shaking. It has to be now I wasn't pushing or pulling Hakan's head any more, just caressing his scalp. He had no idea. He was licking my dick quickly now, spitting on it, getting it slippery as wet soap. You want to fuck girls but none of them can take you I'm much too big Oh yeah, too strong, I told him. So it has to be you Hakan began to wank my slicked-up prong and alternate that with long, deep draughts of it, like filling pints from a hand-pump and then slowly downing them in one. He could feel my pocket rocket was as hard and as pumped as it gets. Countdown to lift-off had begun. I've put that lube all over my fat cock, he said. God, was he proud of the girth of his meat. Though I'm not sure who I mean by 'he' now Don't warn me about it, son, just do it I spread your cheeks and got inside. No, we're not talking, said Tom/Olly. You don't need explanations You can see what I want — Daddy I can't take this I'm out of control now, just pumping you Oh Jesus, I'm about to cum, I told him. 'Are you close, man?' murmured Hakan, lifting the duvet. Oh Daddy, I came, but I'm still pumping away inside you Keep your hand on my belly so I can't get up. You're too much for me I'm gonna cum again. It's been too long Too long. Too thick. Too hard. Too deep. Too strong. That young lad, using me when there were no girls about, his blonde hair over his blue eyes and heavy with sweat, his blue eyes unfocused. Geysering into me, his hard-on throbbing with release. What noise does he make when he cums? 'Don't stop,' I told Hakan, but it was more of a gasp. I dropped the phone with a clatter. I came in an almighty fucking rush, and roared at the back of my throat. My cum splattered all over my boss's face and down my stomach. Hakan, dripping with my spunk, laughed with delight, knelt astride my stomach, wanked his dick, watching me convulse and bite my lip and screw my eyes shut, sealing the image of the Librarian deep in some erotic sub-file of my brain. Hakan laughed as he came: splish, splash, splosh. Then he lay down beside me. I waited for Tom's text to make the phone to buzz again, this time on the hard laminate bedroom floor. Instead I heard birdsong. 'Make me a cup of tea,' Hakan said, drawing the duvet around him. 'I need a snooze before I even think of opening up. The cafe, that is.' After you've cum, you suddenly drop out of the sky from a wild sexual high. You land at ground level and see yourself plainly. I suddenly realised the extent of my obsession with the Librarian. Standing alone, my dick throbbing from the pleasures of the last half hour, wanting another wank just to return to those dreams and ideas, I felt my decision-making brain hovering between two ideas. The first was, how to quit the Librarian. The second was, how to see him naked. I could feel I was back in a danger area, a fantasy world, more real than the real world. Jesus, though, I wanted him, and he was there for the taking. What could be wrong about trying? You have to follow your heart. I followed mine to the library. He was pleased to see me, I could tell. And boy, was I pleased to see him. It's only a couple of weeks since I last saw him — but fuck me, if the guy hasn't already put on even more muscle mass. And more than that. There used to be a permanently anxious, terminally sweet expression in his sparkling blue eyes. Now he's got a bushy blonde beard covering his jaw, and the expression with it is becoming imperious. He looked me pretty much straight in the eye as I walked up to the desk, and he didn't quite smile but he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, 'You again. And I know what you've come back for.' That was when I realised — he must have grown nearly a foot to be able to match my eyeline. 'Hey bro,' he said. His voice has dropped a full octave. Is that because his neck is so much wider, his chest not only bigger, but big? He was wearing a singlet, which seemed out of place in the library, and that chest is thick with golden hair. 'Hey,' I said. 'Still visiting the gym, I see?' 'Really starting to see some gains,' he said, understatement of the century. I remembered how only two months ago he was an underweight teen whose elbows stuck out. He smiled at me. 'Wanna feel?' I should have been embarrassed. We were in public, right at the desk of a public library for God's sake. Instead, I reached out hungrily. I tried and failed to wrap a hand around his wrist. His forearm was furry and solid, his bicep iron in my grasp. 'Goodness,' I said. 'This is beyond what I could have imagined for you.' 'It's still just the start, though, dude,' he said, putting my hand on his left tit. The thin cotton of the singlet barely separated my touch from his vast, hairy chest. I stroked it like it was a piece of expert, varnished carpentry. 'You want to get bigger, still?' I marvelled at the idea. My fingers caressed his big, hard nipple. 'Oh yeah,' he breathed, but seemingly more at the thought of growing muscle than the feel of my hand on him. 'I want to be a fucking beast.' I swallowed. Did I dare to tweak that nipple? No, not yet. 'You already look like you could do someone some serious damage.' I was worried that sounded critical. 'If only, you know, in the sack.' 'My girlfriend...' He hesitated. 'We broke my bed, man.' 'Fuck,' I said. 'That's hot.' 'She couldn't get enough. Neither could I. My sex drive is, like...' He gasped and shrugged in inarticulacy. 'When the red mist comes down, I'm like an animal.' 'It sounds like you're really becoming a man,' I said. 'I guess. I mean, look at me, bro. I got muscle!' He laughed, then scratched his beard. 'And this thing, I guess.' 'And your sex drive.' 'Yeah, perhaps I'm less patient too. I just think about working out, getting bigger. Not everyone appreciates it when someone is single-minded — and successful.' 'I know I'm jealous,' I said. 'I never get like that when I go to the gym.' 'You don't need to be jealous,' he said, blushing. 'You could get all this if you wanted. You've got the perfect building blocks, dude,' he added, sweetly. 'You're freakishly tall and your shoulders are so broad. Amazing.' I blushed. 'Cheers,' I said. 'Nothing gay intended, bro,' he said. 'Course not,' I said, thinking about how he'd asked me to feel his guns. 'Would you be able to work out a routine or something for me?' 'I'd need to get a decent look at you,' he said. 'Meet you here at five and I'll take you up Uranus. That's my gym.' I was trembling. 'You think you could shape me into something like you?' 'I dunno,' he said, feeling his chest, abs, even groin, as if reminding himself what he had. 'All this has taken me by surprise, a bit.' 'But you're liking it,' I said. 'Of course,' he said. 'I'm fucking huge, man.' 'Nothing gay about it, though,' I couldn't resist saying, as I left. We went to his gym, which is just around the corner. An old building, one of the kind you never wonder about. I always assumed it was connected with the College. He was already in his gym shorts. Christ, his thighs are just as I imagined them, concrete blocks brushed with blonde hair. And the bulge in his shorts — I don't know, can a dick grow, just from release of testosterone? He wasn't hard, but maybe he's always halfway there, if his sex drive is as high as he saying. At the desk, I had a surprise. 'It's you,' I said. 'The guy from the park...' He was seated behind the desk, filling out a smart suit very nicely. His neatly trimmed beard framed his thin, wolfish mouth. He looked at me as if we'd never met — and when I tried to follow Olly through the turnstile, locked it so it didn't turn. 'Hey Doctor, he's with me,' said Olly, still sounding sweet and thoughtful but with that new, deep, masculine voice. 'In what sense?' asked the Doctor. 'He's a friend,' said Olly. 'He wants to get into Uranus with me.' The Doctor looked at me coolly. 'I bet he does.' 'Hey,' I said, drawing up to my full height (that usually does it). 'What's the deal with this place?' 'We'll need to run a background check on you before you join,' said the Doctor. 'Sorry for any inconvenience.' 'I didn't need a background check,' said Olly, threateningly. There was a sort of tiger's power in him now, as he rounded on the older man. 'Nico vouched for you,' said the Doctor. 'And you know about Nico's connections.' I guessed Nico must be the guy we always referred to as 'the Beast'. I wonder exactly what his connections are, and why the gym is so exclusive. I suppose if it gets results like my Librarian pal, weakling to wrecking ball in a matter of weeks, there must be something special going on in there. Whatever it was, Olly seemed to be cowed by the mention of Nico. He swallowed, a gigantic Adam's apple bobbing in his wide throat, and looked me in the eye. 'Sorry, bro,' he said. 'We'll be pumping iron together before you know it. The Doctor will help. We need to get you your own set of these.' He tipped me a wink and cheerfully flexed his guns, as encouragement. I wanted to throw him on the floor right there and then and introduce my love-muscle to his fun-hole. I noticed the Doctor gazing in adoration too. 'Good advert for Uranus,' I said. He looked up at me and smoothed his beard. He looked hot and bothered. 'You can say that again,' he said. 'We always get our men where we want them.' 'That's funny,' I said. 'Me too.' 'Just fill out this form, then,' said the Doctor. 'See you soon,' my pumped-up Librarian pal said, waving an ape-like arm. 'Don't worry. No background check's going to have trouble with an ex-cop.' I stared down at the Doctor. 'No,' I said, with a smile. 'You'll let me come soon, won't you?' He slid a small, creamy white card across the desk. It gave a telephone number, but the only name on the card was 'DOCTOR O'. 'I'll see what I can do, sir,' he said.
  16. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 8 of 14

    Chapter 7 is here. And this is really where it gets interesting... 8 Olly Friday, September 26th Late for work again today. I know it's wrong. A month ago I would haven't dreamt of it. A month ago I was early, eager to please — god, such a good little boy. But was that bad? I love the library — I don't want to piss off Mr Bartholomew — but equally, I can't bring myself to give a fuck. Am I a bad boy now? I'm definitely not so little these days. No, I'm not a bad boy. God knows, I'm working harder than ever. I get up at five to get to the gym early enough for my morning session. Just me, the Beast, and a few other hardcore lads. We devotees of the iron, sweat and lift. Most of those other guys in the early morning, city types with nice pecs, are still only doing half the work that me and the Beast are putting in. We're there to do a cardio session and a few light weights. We spar a little in the changing rooms. That's just session one. We still have our weights session scheduled for the evening. No, that's all good. Mum and Dad and Anthony are pleased to see me taking some exercise. My parents are glad to see me becoming a man. Anthony nods encouragingly, but I can see there's something behind his eyes. Perhaps he's not sure which of us is the big brother nowadays. Especially after his nice pale blue interview shirt got ripped up the back. He found it on my bedroom floor. 'Jesus Christ,' he said, 'What happened to this?' I wasn't in the mood to talk nicely about it. It was a Saturday morning and I was getting ready to go for a swim. 'I guess I happened to it, bro. I'll replace it.' 'You get in a fight?' 'What are you, deaf, blind or an idiot? I told you that I happened to it. In case you haven't noticed, I've put on some weight since you first leant it to me.' 'You mean you outgrew my shirt?' He was turning it over in his hands. 'The sleeves are all burst too.' 'Are they? Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise you cared about it so much.' 'You don't seem to remember it happening.' 'Sometimes when I've had a good session, and I'm really pumped, I guess I forget myself a bit,' I tried to explain, still packing my swim bag: towel, trunks, shake... 'I just can't believe you've put on any muscle so fast.' 'It happens when you first start at the gym. The Beast's an expert, and I've been reading up. A guy my age has the right chemical balance. He's ready to...' 'Explode?' 'If you want.' 'Show me,' he said. I really hadn't wanted this, but he'd asked for it. I went and stood before him and pulled off my sweat top. I like it because it keeps my new physique something of a secret. It's outsize. You can't tell, at first glance, how very outsize I am. 'Oh, fuck.' He covered his mouth with his hand. 'Olly, you look like a — like a gorilla or something.' 'Do you see how I bust your shirt open now?' I balled my hands into fist, demonstrating the iron bars my forearms have become. I banged on my chest with one first. The smack and the little bounce always made me want to smile, especially thinking how little I used to look when I first struck these poses in the bathroom mirror. 'Do you see what I'm packing? Your shirt was for a normal sized guy, Anthony, and I've started to go way beyond normal.' 'I suppose you're just...' His mouth was dry, staring at the thick sinew of my arms, my hulking shoulders, my rugged six pack. 'You're growing up faster than I thought. I didn't realise you even had chest hair.' I ran my fingertips through it. 'That's testosterone. When you're working out at my capacity, the body starts producing more of it. I'm flooded with testosterone now, and it — well...' I clapped my hands together for emphasis, and couldn't resist pulling a momentary 'most muscular' pose, so he could see the whole story. 'It makes things grow.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'I hope you know what you're doing.' 'Don't worry, little guy,' I patted his shoulder patronisingly. 'I'm right on course.' He looked repelled, and for some reason I loved it. I tried not to show what a turn-on it was, just pulled my sweat top back on and went out the door for that swim. Mr Bartholomew is less than happy. Last Friday he complained that I wasn't taking the job seriously. That was at the start of the day, and I swallowed that down pretty well, but he kept on at me all day. I told him how I was carrying three times the number of books about now, and could reach the higher shelves without standing on a step ladder. He said that was all very well, but that it was attitude that was the thing, and I had a bad one. That afternoon the ex-policeman came in for a chat. Well, I've written about him in here before. It's the highlight of my week. At first I thought it was just because he's a tough like me, and in some ways more so than the Beast. He doesn't lift or anything, but he's army-fit, and fucking tall. He towers over the Beast and has to stoop a little just to come in at the door. He's been in some hard situations, he told me. He said he chased down drug dealers and smacked their heads together. He's been in situations where he's carried a gun, and others where he's had to wrestle a bloke to the floor and pin him. That takes strength, sure, but it takes something more: self-belief. Yeah, he's a tough guy, a real man, the sort of guy my brother would be shy of talking to. Not sure why he quit the force. Reading between the lines, I think it was something to do with addiction. The first time we talked, he wanted to know about gym stuff. I got a real buzz when I realised he'd noticed the little changes in my body, the output of all my input. It's nice to be admired. Of course, I like it from girls most of all. I like to see that look in their eyes that their pussy is melting, that they want me inside it, that they're dreaming of my cock. But when I get it from guys it's worth three times as much, because I know they're saying they put themselves beneath me. I am the dominant one, the alpha male, for once. And then when he was asking again last week, the penny dropped. He's gay. A little — or rather, six foot something — poof. And I realised, as I was talking, that his eyes kept going down to my arms, my chest, my packet. He couldn't stop staring, and then I could see a look come over his face. The look that meant he wanted me to come over his face. I folded my arms before him, and he had to actually take a step back. His eyes boggled. 'So, where do you work out?' he asked me. 'Uranus,' I told him. 'It's just down that way.' I pointed past his shoulder so that my massive arm was right in his face. He stared at it like a hungry man looking at steak. 'Maybe you should come along.' 'I'd like to,' he said. 'You'd like to what?' I said, leaning in conspiratorially. 'I'd like to come,' he said. 'With me?' I said. 'If you're interested,' he said. I gave a big laugh then, put out a big hand and pushed him away playfully. He almost stumbled. 'You've changed since I first came in here, if you don't mind me saying so,' he said, and I've been puzzling over what he meant exactly. But later that day, when the last customer had gone and we were locking up, Mr B. cornered me by the photocopier and said I needed to spend less time chatting and more time doing what I was paid for, or perhaps they'd decide my presence was not required. After a whole day of being baited, that's when the red mist finally came down. I turned and shoved the guy, less playfully then I did the ex-police officer. He went down right away. 'Please don't hurt me,' he whimpered. 'Please don't hurt me,' I parroted. 'I didn't mean to be rude,' he said, 'but -' 'But you're used to being a bully,' I said. 'I'm not. But I could get a taste for this.' I went and stood over him. He looked up at me in horror but also in desire. He didn't know what he wanted, but I did. I slowly undid the top button on my chinos. 'I thought you were a different sort of boy when I employed you,' he said. 'The sort you could push around,' I said, slowly unzipping my fly. 'You were so polite, so sweet-natured.' 'I was littler then,' I said, reaching into my trousers and pulling out my junk, still wrapped in my clean white briefs. I cradled it in my hand, letting him take it in. 'I've grown up a bit.' 'That's a nice size,' he said greedily, getting up onto his knees. 'It's certainly more than I'm used to,' I laughed. 'Do you want — do you want me to suck you?' he asked. More worldly wise than I'd have thought. 'Open wide,' I said, and pulled out my dick. He looked up, uncomprehending, then turned back to my big soft cock, hanging like a piece of ripe fruit from a big, solid tree. He opened his mouth. I caught the back of his throat with a stream of golden piss. He gasped, but I grabbed his curly, grey-white-black hair, and after a second or two he relaxed, and took it like a man. 'Say thank you,' I said. 'Thank you, sir,' he said. 'No more complaints from you, I hope.' 'I only want what's best for the library,' he said, wiping his mouth. 'And all of us,' he added quickly. No, I don't think I'll have any more trouble from him. And I don't think my work out regime is affecting going to the library. I'm always finished in plenty of time to reach the door for opening time, especially now I can run faster than ever before, and it's only a couple of streets away. None of that is so wrong. But when I've finished my morning session, then comes the shower. The Beast and I still shower in adjacent cubicles, just like that first day when could barely lift 10kg. Back when I was a shrimp next to him. I'm nowhere hear his weight and size yet, of course, or his definition — he's still bigger than me, and has five years' advantage on me. I'm still nowhere near the point where I can live my dream. Take his place. Have Estelle tell him how much more she likes my dick. Have him grovel in front of me and call me his master. I'm still too weak for that. And crazy enough that my dick is growing with my muscle, I'm not even half as hung as he is. And we're still pals. We go into our showers together, and I take my bar of Coal Tar soap, and I turn on the water. Jets of red hot water hit my shoulder blades and run down the crevice of my arse, into my arse hole, and down my newly engorged thighs. I take the soap and rub it in circles on my shoulders, around the burning ridges of my trapezius muscles, inside my stinking, furry armpits, over the hard ridges of my stomach, round my dick and balls, up and down my thighs, and up inside my chocolate starfish. And this is where I start to go wrong. This is where I am able to take stock of how my biceps have swelled and my triceps have swelled, as I raise my arms to scrub away beneath them; I can appreciate, in this silence of the water hissing, how much harder and wider my lats are than last week. I soap up my pecs and I take note of how much broader they have grown, and how much further they stand from shoulders and my thick, vascular neck. This is when my dick becomes solid, and I can practically feel my heart beating in it. It seems to stand a little longer and flare a little wider every time I get it hard, and then I soak away at it, marvelling at how it's grown, adoring it with the caress of my bar of Coal Tar. Now I am able to flex and pose and feel how much the muscle has sprouted on and within me. I love feeling the extra mass that I've grown, sometimes overnight. I have to feel the new thickness and solidity of my thick cock, as I pump my big fist on it. I go into a reverie where all I am conscious of is the size of my muscle and how it has grown. I think about the stares I've got from girls and from guys. I think about how I bust Anthony's shirt and how he looked at me with such envy. I think of the jeans I was wearing last week that ripped at the seams because my thighs are so big now. I think of how I accidentally snapped a door handle off the door at the library. I reach down and feel my balls, now big juicy orbs full of spunk. I reach around and feel the tightness and roundness of my glutes. I twist and look down at my tree trunk thighs, grown from hairless saplings. I look at how my body hair has grown wild across the chest and arms and stomach that were completely smooth a week ago. I think of the tiny physique that stood in this cubicle stall once before, half the size of me at least. Fuck, what's happening to me? I feel I'm becoming obsessed. I've got the physique of a true bodybuilder now, but it's not enough — it's really not enough. I've got it in my sights now. Another couple of years and there'll be a beast in that shower stall. Okay, I'm going to have to sneak into the bathroom and have another wank now. I need to do more than get my boss to drink my piss in the library after hours. I need to get some sex soon. I reckon the police officer would go down on me, given half the chance. That's what we were really talking about, last Friday. I made sure of it. 'Come with me?' I said. 'I'm flattered, big guy, but I'm afraid I don't fuck guys. This big mister -' I grabbed my bulge and squeezed it to show him how it crammed my y-fronts ' — is strictly girls allowed.' God, he looked humiliated, though he tried to smile. Fucking queer, after my body. That reminds me. Sophie replied to my text. She's coming tomorrow. I'd better save that wank tonight. I'm going to give her everything I've got.
  17. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 6 of 14

    Chapter 5 is here 6 Olly Thursday, August 28th Eat. Lift. Sleep. Repeat. I've got that written up above my bed now. I hear it in the pulsing of blood in my ears. And with that insistent beat, I feel like I can feel something else stirring, pulsing like a heartbeat. Yesterday, the Beast put a huge paw on my shoulder. I was just out of the shower, with my towel wrapped around my midriff. I was getting ready to step back into my undies and pull my jeans on and head back home to bed. Muscle is torn apart in the gym, fed in the kitchen and built in bed. 'Wait a minute, bro,' he said. 'Look in the mirror.' I turned and looked, and saw it for the first time. I saw mass. I could see it in my arms, my neck, my chest, my belly, my shoulders, my legs, the sharp ridge of my hips. You might not know it if you didn't know me, but it was like a roll of thunder in the still of the night. I could see it in my eyes, too; in my stance, in the fat veins of my arms. I could feel it with every breath I took in, I could feel a greater weight on the balls of my feet. I could feel it in that slow burning ache that never quite fades. My body is putting on muscle. Of course, next to the Beast I still looked almost girlish. It's the body of an athlete. It's powerful, it's stronger than your average guy, it's the kind of thing a popstar has, or a magazine model: it's not nearly enough. But it's a hard body. It indicates that something has begun. I'm strong enough now to start lifting real weights. And it feels like it's come out of nowhere. I'm working hard, so hard. I'm working out nearly every day, lifting free weights and kettlebells till my arms and my thighs and my core are all screaming furiously — but still this is so sudden. I see other guys in the gym working hard, guys with personal trainers, guys who were working out before I started, and they don't have what I've got. And maybe it's in the stance, the look, the fire in the belly. But it's also a fact that I am bigger than them. I've stripped my body of fat now, the little that I had. I see abs, tiny but boulder hard, when I pull on my shirt in the morning. I feel power in my delts and biceps, even when I lift my Astrophysics textbooks out of my suitcase, when I chug down that fucking disgusting protein shake. I wake up and I feel my heart pumping; at night, I feel my body reinvigorated. I want to fuck, twenty-four seven. My brother brought home his girlfriend last night. She's totally sweet and lovely, got a beautiful smile that comes straight out of her eyes. Really friendly. I was in the kitchen with Anthony, asking about her, and he's just so sweet about her. 'We're going out to loads of archaeological sites,' he told me. 'I make a packed lunch, she drives, and it's just so — comfortable. Nourishing.' 'That's great, man,' I said, watching him cook. 'You probably think we're like an old couple,' he said. 'But life's different when you're twenty-one, man. You'll see.' 'I hope not!' I said, with a big fake laugh, glancing back toward the sitting room. All I could think of was, what's she going to do for a dick inside her? Where's she going to get that from? Her boyfriend, who makes the packed lunch and chooses what motorway to use for their day out? That'll hardly touch the sides. In more than one sense. I see girls in the street and I want to go up to them and put my face in between their thighs. I want to taste them, I want to stick my tongue in deep, to drink them down. I want to listen to them lose control with pleasure. I want them to fill my senses with their sex. I want satisfaction. I was hard throughout the dinner my brother cooked. And I could see the way she was glancing at my arms when I filled her wine-glass, at my pecs when she hugged me goodbye (fuck, but they're so sensitive) that she felt the same thing. I'd never do anything against my big brother, but I could have taken her off him, like that: the filthy bitch. I've never been a big one for masturbation. I always thought it was dirty and somewhat shameful. I only ever used my laptop for my studies in the past. But last night, I shut the door carefully, and I pulled the curtains. I turned on my laptop and I searched for sex. In my underpants, the laptop resting on my crotch, pressing on my ever hardening penis. And I'm looking down at my muscle in the light of the screen. Crazy, veiny, raw stuff. I have a strange urge, more than ever, to tweak my nipples. They seem to have grown more sensitive in the last few weeks. I use both hands, thumb and forefinger. But then I feel I need another hand to take care of my dick. I'm watching a muscle guy fucking. Pornography. I never saw the appeal this stuff has. It's there to reach the bits of fantasy at the back of your mind that nobody else can get at. And there he is, older than the Beast but just about as built. And the girl is being pinned down, she's yodelling with pleasure. I reach into my pants for my dick. Here comes the surprise. The thing inside is twice as fat as it used to be. It used to be, quite frankly, a pencil, and now it's a magic marker. It feels heavy in my hand. Where my fist used to close the whole thing in, I can wrap my hand around it now and the cockhead pokes out, plus an inch or two to spare. Not just the normal kind of muscle. Somehow, the other kind of muscle is growing too. I'm enlarging all over, to scale. When my face is reflected in my laptop screen, it looks no less young, and the expression on it — so innocent. My own body is outpacing me. I stroked my new, bigger dick for a while, staring at it almost as much as I was staring at the porn. Then I decided: I'm a scientist. I need to know more. First I Googled: NATURAL COCK ENLARGEMENT and found oceans of scammy sites trying to sell me machines and yoga exercises. Then I tried MAGICAL COCK ENLARGEMENT and found all the same sites, plus a lot of stuff about magic beans and yogic chanting. I tried searching for, BIGGER MUSCLES OVERNIGHT and got diet plans and exercise videos. I tried SUDDENLY BIG MUSCLE, I HAVE A BIG COCK NOW, UNEXPECTED BIG COCK and NEW BIG COCK AND BIG MUSCLE IN THE NIGHT and got back to the porn, most of it gay, which I'm not into. I tried to focus. I was beginning to feel downhearted and dispirited, and even a little scared. Then, like a light in the dark woods, I came across a message board about muscle growth: Muscle Worshippers. I felt I needed to find out if this had happened to someone before. It's not exactly something I want to share with the Beast. I left a message, explaining my situation, took a deep breath, clicked 'send' and went to bed. I dreamed I had emailed that message to the tall guy in the library, and that I was waiting for him to reply. And then it was morning. Before I did anything, I sat down again at my laptop. There were several responses already to my query. BIG DICK LOVER: Hi DulwichBoy, it doesn't sound like you help, it sounds like you need a willing arse. Good news, I have one hear — bad news, I don't live in London. Are you ever in San Francisco? MUSCLE PUP: Your story got me so hot. I jacked off to it twice before I went to bed. I'm London, maybe we should hook up? ASTROMAN: This Beast is obviously one of the great old ones who walk amongst us and bestow bountiful gifts. You must respect his gift and consider what he is trying to show you. Only then will true enlightenment fall upon you. Also, do you have any pictures? GRANT: Whoa, I love the sound of your hot muscles. I wonder where it will stop? I like to think it won't, and by the time you're 25 (nearer my age) you'll already be a hot muscle daddy. Can you come to NY soon? The Big Apple has room for you however big you get. LUVVABOI: I'm in Manchester. I'm working out trying to get as big as I can. Would love to come and share your magic. Pictures, pls. You sound bodacious. MIKEY9+: My dick has never stopped growing. Also, Musclepup, I jacked off when I read that you jacked off. Any pics of you jacking off to DulwichBoy's story? Reading these responses to his story, I felt my dick swell and lengthen in my pyjamas. There was a tingle at the root, a throb in the cockhead. When I pulled it out, I found that it was at least another inch or two longer and fatter than the night before. The cockhead bulged a little more, like a plum ripening in the dew. I could feel the different kind of grip my thumb and fingers made around it. I had to take some action — so I picked up my phone and took a few pictures with a deodorant can for reference. My body was tingling with excitement. It was nearly time to head off to the gym, after all. Quickly I uploaded the pictures to the message board. DULWICHBOY: Since you asked, this is me. Thanks for all the comments. I'm not gay but I appreciate your positivity. About a minute after uploading, I got a response: MUSCLE PUP: Fuck man, that is a nice dick and bod too. You don't need to get any bigger. So hard right now. Heart racing, I typed my response: DULWICHBOY: Like I said, I'm not gay. I like women. But thanks. So, you lift, bro? I wanked my dick, drawn into the atmosphere of sex. It was amazing to feel the new thickness in my palm, and to see muscles bulging in my arm as my fist pumped that I had never been seen before. Ping! Muscle Pup had uploaded a picture. MUSCLE PUP: Been working out a couple of years now. What do you think? Wow. MusclePup was about my age and height, and he'd been working out about twenty times longer than me. And I was bigger than him. I could take him. I knew I could. I pictured myself wrestling him to the ground. Ping! Another message. 6'5LIBRARYUSER: Hey, DulwichBoy. Do I know you? You're rocking some impressive gains. My heart began to beat in my chest. Quickly I exited Muscle Worshippers and retreated to my email inbox. There was a cute email from Sophie, and I read it peacefully, letting my dick soften. I had to get going, after all. It was time to hit the gym. But I've been running it over in my head ever since. I haven't replied to that message board. I don't belong on there. Nevertheless, I log on secretly and read the comments. For at least a week, the comments kept on coming. Guys from all over the world who were hot for my meat. I never even thought that a gay guy might fancy me before this. (Why would I?) But this is crazy. And I absolutely love it. Yeah, you guys. You want this? You want to feel the power in this arm that used to be so powerless? You jizzing in your pants to see a pair of pecs bulging in my t-shirt? And it's more than that, isn't it? I don't just turn you on, little guys. I have power over you. Any of you. I control you. Bring you to me. Dismiss you. I shame you in your most private moments. Worthless, little-dick, weakling cocksuckers: and the gay guys, too! I'm the boss of you all. And I think that's always been in me, even when I was little. I was always a boss waiting to realise it. Alpha at the core, hard at the centre. Now I'm starting to wield that power — just like the Beast. And my teacher — my rival, only he doesn't know it yet — is proud of his work. 'I'm doing it,' he said today, gripping my enlarged shoulder, prodding my hard abs, making me curl and make a bicep and measuring it against his monster. 'I'm bring it out in you. I'm making you bigger, day by day. How do you like that, little librarian?' I met his eye in the mirror. 'Love it, big guy,' I said. 'Love it.'
  18. The Company Chapter 2

    Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13680-the-company-chapter-1/ The Company Chapter Two He felt strange. He felt exhausted and empowered at the same time. The jacuzzi had stopped bubbling, and the UV lights were turned off. He felt different. He touched his shoulders and chest. Disbelief and excitement mixed in his mind, as he felt the sensation of hard, well-defined muscles. His hard, well-defined muscles. An hour ago he had been a wrinkled, fragile and shy octagenarian from a conservative mid-western town. To begin with, he wasn't fragile anymore. He remained in the hot liquid, and tried to focus. Bill, his PT, returned, cheerful and encouraging. The hot and damp air caused Bill's polo shirt to stick to his torso, revealing Bill's aesthetic, but not exaggerated, physique. He could feel desire arise. Before the treatment, he had felt impressed by Bill, and trusted Bill as a professional, and felt protective in the way he often did towards younger men – and most men were younger these days. Now he felt confused. Bill helped him up, out of the water, but, unlike the case when he entered the jacuzzi, he didn't need much help when he return out of it. Powerful legs stepped the metal stairs. A big hand clenched the handrail. The dressing gown didn't fit anymore, and Bill joked about it. By the sound of it, the joke wasn't new. No longer surrounded by liquid, he felt taller, and he felt unaccustomed to his new improved physique. He adjusted his stance, and tried to find a suitable posture. He felt more confident. It felt good. Bill handed him a plastic cup of mineral water. "You are probably dehydrated because of The Treatment, sir. You need water and sodium. This is ordinary mineral water. Do you feel dizzy?" He drank three glasses of water. The dizziness faded. Bill listened to his heartbeat with a stethoscope, and had his blood pressure measured. "Your clothes will be tailored for your new measurements, sir. Will you please step into the changing room?" His old clothes hang there. They were obviously too small now. Then he turned to the full-length mirror. Lust erupted. A wave of arousal surged through him. He noticed that he didn't need his glasses anymore, and the face, that stared back at him in the mirror, could have been drawn by his favourite erotic artist: Handsome, playfully charming in a masculine way. The face of men he never dared to approach. A powerful muscle rolled between his strong neck and his bulging shoulders – his nephew called it traps. The chest of a hero. Narrow waist – extremely so – contrasting to his broad shoulders and wide chest. Six hemispheric tiles formed a washboard. The wave of arousal intensified. The mirror image stared in disbelief, its blue eyes boyishly innocent in a baby face empowered by mature masculinity. Full lips. Cute nose. Dimples. And that face placed over the mature muscularity of a bodybuilder of – let's say – twenty-five years' experience. He couldn't believe it was his own reflection, but his reason told him it was. His mind drowned in rapture – he didn't know for how long – and he could feel his cock spasm pleasantly, and more powerfully than ever before. He opened his eyes. One hour ago, he would have been devastated by embarrassment of letting this happen in the sight of Bill, but now he only felt mildly sheepish. The mirror was stained by large spots of his own cum, which now slowly trickled down the surface of the mirror. "I'm sorry for that." Bill only smiled leniently: "In this profession I have seen everything, already. You are not the first one." He nodded towards a spray can of detergent in a corner. Without further ado, Bill used a measuring tape which had been there all the time. While Bill did what he had to do, the customer changed his stance and posture, looked at his reflection, and suddenly noticed a framed reproduction hanging in the changing room: It was one of Tom's drawings. An almost naked, but very confident, muscular young man having his measures taken at a tailor's, while an obese man, waiting for his turn, looking embarrassed. His cock awaked again. For which time, now? This time it didn't spew. Bill was soon finished with his job: "Oh, and another thing: In order to protect the anonymity of our guests, each guest is given a username during their remaining stay, by which they will be known by other guests. Do you have any suggestion, sir?" He had been told about the usernames before. "Is 'Tom' already taken?" "I'm afraid it is, sir. That is a very popular choice." He thought a few seconds. "What about 'Brett', then? Is that taken?" "No, I will immediately register the username 'Brett'." "Thank you, Bill." "Your gymwear and your chosen attire – I see that you have chosen the biker option (a classic one!) – will be delivered to your room within two hours. Many customers take a nap after The Treatment. Other guests take a shower. I am sure, that you will find a way to spend the waiting time. Before you go, will you please chose your underwear from the stand, and one of the big size bathrobes? None of the underwears were smaller than size L. Some of the styles were unfamiliar to him. Why not test something new? He finally found a leather jockstrap, took a look in the mirror and felt how his cock began to throb inside, rubbing itself against the leather. He felt dazed. This wasn't happening? The being in the mirror wasn't himself? Too good to be true? He girded himself with a very large white terrycloth bathrobe, and found a heap of large rubber slippers. Thus attired, he walked through the corridors. Brett walked through the corridors. He smiled. It felt unreal, but in a good way. Brett squeezed his manhood through the terrycloth and the leather. Brett needed a nap. And a shower. While he waited for his biker gear.
  19. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 1 of 14

    Hey guys, I wrote this novel a couple of years ago and for a while it was on sale at Amazon, Smashwords etc. I've decided to remove it from sale and make it available here in instalments. That doesn't change the fact that it is Copyright Lawrence Jackson 2015. Hope you enjoy it - please give me any kind of feedback you want! Dedicated to the Xhamster user known as 'snuffed' and Tom/Nico/Stephan aka 'Skinnythick' and everyone else who gives a little of themselves online. 1 Stephan Friday, August 1st The plumber said: 'If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have stopped by the gym this morning.' But he had a nice body, all the better for not being toned. He was in his mid-to-late twenties: his belly and upper body were fleshy — I ran a hand over his left tit, swirling sweat across his fleshly nipple with my thumb — but it was clear enough to me he played footie every Sunday. His hairy thighs, as he braced himself for my pumping first, were muscled like an athlete's. 'You're so fit,' I told him. He smiled and looked shyly down at himself. 'Fuck off.' I finished unzipping his overalls. The heat coming off him was like a radiator. 'I really shouldn't be doing this,' he said, shimmying the overalls to his ankles. 'I'm proposing to my bird next Sunday.' I promised him she wouldn't mind, and began massaging his cock. 'There are some things,' he said, widening his stance so I could go at him more vigorously, 'you just can't speak to your other half about.' 'Tell me about it,' I said, glancing at our apartment's front door. Tom wasn't due back until the evening, later even if it was 'one of those days' at the surgery, so put this one down to a gay man's intuition. 'She talks about getting into bed with another girl,' he said, 'but just to make me cum, and that. She'd pull one of her faces if she could see me now.' He put his hands flat on his hips, and watched as his dick got fully hard in my hand. 'What else does your, eh, fiancé do to make you cum?' He looked at me. 'Getting a bit personal, aren't we?' 'That's my favourite thing to get,' I said. I nibbled his sweaty chest, kissed his hairy belly, licked his dick questioningly. 'She's alright,' he said, pushing my face down onto his dick so that my glasses jolted halfway down my nose. I let them sit there, and got on with the business of deep-throating that intensely warm cock. His whole body was hot from the overalls. I bounced my nose off his crotch, sniffing droplets of sweat from his short and curlies, the saltiness of his pork gliding smoothly to the back of my throat. 'She likes to go on top once in a while. She watches porn with me — well, she did it once when we were in a hotel in Budapest, and she seemed to really get off on it. She really might go to bed with me and another girl, if the circumstances arose. Oh yeah, mate, that is reem.' 'Mmm,' I said, swallowing a gobbet of pre-cum that spoke louder than words. 'And maybe a year down the line, or maybe when the kids are in school at least, when we're really settled,' he said, 'I could maybe buy her a strap-on. Have you seen that online? Pegging, they call it. Stupid bloody name.' I took the cock out of my mouth and kept wanking it, looking up at his expression. 'You got time to do that today?' 'I've got to be in Muswell Hill at three thirty for an estimate on a wet room,' he said, drawing in a thoughtful air through his teeth. 'How long does it take to set up?' 'No time,' I said. 'Turn around.' 'Fucking hell,' he said, following my instruction. 'My lucky day, innit?' He was bent over and spreading his cheeks for me, when I heard a sound outside. Ex-copper's instincts now. That was definitely Tom's car, the way the engine did that thing that I've been nagging at him about getting fixed. I hesitated, then stuck my tongue up the plumber's sweaty plug-hole to play for time. 'Oh fuck, yes,' he said. 'Do you need me to get at a particular angle for you? You're such a tall bastard. Six four, is it?' 'Six eight,' I said, staring at his arsehole, bubbled with my spit. Outside, I heard car doors slam. Three floors up. Tom would walk it, he always did. It took almost exactly five minutes. 'Look,' I said. 'I've just remembered something.' 'Oh yeah,' he said, 'you need lube for a thing like this, don't ya?' 'It's more than that,' I said, getting to my feet. He turned to look at me, worried. 'Well, rubbers, of course. It's been a while, but it's not actually my first time, sunshine.' 'No, something bigger than that.' I saw his eyes widen in excitement. 'One of those big rubber dildo things?' I ran an anxious hand through my curly blonde hair. 'It's my boyfriend.' 'Whatever you say, fellah,' he said, grinning and wanking his cock. 'Extra very well endowed, is he?' 'Funny you should say that,' I said, 'but the important thing is that he doesn't know you're — we're — he's not actually due back till later, but -' 'Oh, shit, say no more,' said the plumber. 'I've been here before, enough times.' He pointed at the floor. 'Hence the zip-up overalls.' I willed myself to remember the order of the Kings and Queens of Britain. My hard-on resisted till I reached the 1920s when I really had to concentrate. By the time I could bear to look back at him, he was fully dressed and writing his number on the back of a card. 'Escort me to your maintenance task,' he said, handing it over. 'You do have one, don't you?' Of course. Fucked if I could remember what it was, though. The key went in the lock. I went cold, looked for my jumper, and the thought leaped out at me. 'The radiator,' I said, as the door opened. 'Excellent,' said the young man, with only a glance toward the new arrival. He had his biro out again already. 'Well, here's my charge for call-out, stripping down, tackling the airlock. Of course, if the problem persists, call me out again at a convenient time and I'll see what else we can do.' My heart was racing. 'Of course,' I said. 'Can you take a card, or -' 'That'll be fine.' I handed over £50, licking my lips with the taste of his fuck-chute till on the tip of my tongue. He smiled that broad smile and I nearly got a tent in my jogging bottoms all over again. 'See you.' 'See ya, mate!' Tom stood in the doorway, watching the plumber leave. 'Well done. I thought neither of us would ever organise that.' 'Time on my hands,' I said, thinking about where my fingers had just been, and wiping unobtrusively them on my jumper. 'Well, yes,' Tom said, frowning. 'I wasn't expecting you to be home...' He tailed off and looked back into the stairwell. 'Look,' he said, to somebody out there, 'this is silly. You'd better come in.' The door creaked open and a young man in jeans and hooded top came in, swinging a camera case. With his bottle glasses, bristling moustache and tightly knotted tie he looked faintly intellectual, but with that dumb look that comes with the heady uncertainty of imminent sex. I smiled at him, to put him at his ease, and he smiled back, perhaps to put me at mine. It was a moment of wild incomprehension and at the same time, perhaps, total understanding. 'You were going to...' I looked back at Tom, who was squatting on the arm of the sofa. In his smart office trousers, his big bazonger was perfectly delineated, and faintly tumescent as well. 'Yes,' he said. 'Dean and I were making conversation at work.' 'Right,' I said. 'We were talking about you,' Tom said. 'I see,' I said. 'And naturally that led to inviting him back for...' 'It did, in fact,' Tom said. 'I was telling him about what you've been getting up to this past year.' Ouch. 'No,' Tom said, seeing my face. 'Don't feel bad. That's what I realised, in my conversation with Dean. That it's good. We should both be doing whatever we want. It'll make us happy.' 'Right,' I said, pulling on my jumper. Tom forced a smile. 'Right,' he said. He looked at Dean. 'Do you want a coffee?' 'Sure,' said Dean. 'Everything okay?' 'I'll get the coffee,' I said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Milk? Sugar?' 'You sure?' Tom looked concerned. 'You two get started,' I said, not quite sure what I was saying, and walking towards the door, turning my head, I saw my boyfriend turning to the stranger and shrugging off his coat. The stranger put down his bag and took off his jacket. I noticed a little staff card in a lanyard round his neck. So the pair of them were both GP's at the same surgery. Trust Tom to meet someone so entirely innocently, after all my debaucheries of the past year. The stuff that's got me thrown out of the police force. The stuff that's wrecked my life. I stood in the doorway, staring at the coffee pot. I could hear them kissing and gasping with the novelty of it. I could hear them undoing a belt. I closed the door, filled the kettle, put it on to boil. I opened the door a crack, spied on the pair of them. I wanted to see the junior doctor's reaction to my boyfriend's huge member. Dean was unzipping his camera bag, while Tom had his hands up inside his starched office suit and was pinching his nipples. Dean took out a huge black camera and turned it on Tom, ordering him to strip. His words vanished behind the hissing of the coffee coming to the boil. I just saw Tom slowly undoing his shirt, dropping his trousers to his ankles. His raging bulge twitched like a black mamba in a sandwich bag. Dean knelt at his feet and carried on snapping. I got my dick out of my trousers and started wanking. The coffee began to hiss and issue steam. Tom took the camera and snapped Dean as he tugged Tom's juicy pink sausage out of his grey, custom-issue y-fronts. Dean played up to it in a practised way, marvelling at the big purple head, the way he could get one hand gripped around it on top of the other. He wanked and sucked on it, spit flying all over the kitchen floor in his enthusiasm. The coffee pot gurgled, and so did I. I pumped my fist faster. Tom and Dean snogged one another, one small dick pressed against a giant, kneaded and ground together. I couldn't help noticing Tom had one eye on the kitchen door. I turned away and served up the coffee, hand trembling. Tom looked excited, slightly drunk — sexy as fuck, of course — but did he look happy? Or just pretending? Whose benefit was this for, exactly? Was I really thinking those things, though, or was I thinking: Fuck, Fuck, Gotta Fuck, Two hot guys getting off in the living room, gotta fuck, gotta Fuck, gotta FUCK FUCK FUCK. (I've come to realise this is the theme song to my days.) I took the coffee in, and the two men broke away. 'Uh, maybe it's not the time for a drink after all, mate,' Dean said, wiping the steam from his glasses lenses. 'Leave it on the table,' Tom said, 'but don't forget to use the coasters.' The doorbell rang. 'I'll get that,' I said, my voice almost lost in my mouth. It was the plumber, of course. 'You alright, big fellah?' he said, looking up at me. 'I got talking to the bloke in specs while he was waiting in the hall. Says he's heard your fella's got a huge dick and loves fucking arse.' I nodded shyly, and welcomed him in. 'Do you want a coffee?' I said. He considered. 'Nah,' he said, rubbing his chin and looking at the couple writhing on the sofa. 'Got that Muswell Hill job, ain't I? Alright, you two lovebirds, who wants to take a straight boy up the arse, and who wants to photograph it?' He was very clear that they shouldn't get a shot of his face, but in the end, of course, the pair of them did: a huge splash. Even the plumber managed to spunk himself on the cheek. I had a wank while they were all three locked together, but for some reason I myself couldn't cum until I was looking at the pictures later on Dean's Tumblr. And I thought about this. Afterwards, over lunch, Tom surprised me: 'I think we ought to have a trial separation.' I laughed. 'That's just what I was going to say,' I said. 'You're driving me round the bend. Making me want new things.' 'Today, all I wanted was you. But I also wanted to fuck everything. I'm not sure I can square it.' He pushed his chair away from the table. 'Maybe it'll be easier if we're both single. We can see more of each other.' He was rubbing his tits through his cum-stained work shirt. 'No. We need to be apart. I'm bad for you. I make you do things you don't want to do.' 'I'll do whatever you want,' he said. He stood up and stood next to me, nuzzling my shoulder with his crotch, where a hard-on was swelling. 'Exactly,' I said. 'I'm not right in the head. I'm addicted. I need to get myself cleaned up, and in the meantime, you need to become you again.' He unzipped and took it out. The dick that had first captivated me when I saw it online. Mr11AndAHalf, Wimbledon. 'I don't want us to get cleaned up,' he said. 'I want us to get completely covered in sweat and cum and piss.' It was still only soft. The temptation was just as massive as his meat-stick. I stood up, stooped, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Shush,' I said. 'We both need some time away from sex. I'll go and pack a bag.' 'But where can you go to get away from sex? Who will you be staying with?' he asked me. 'Slutpig93, Musclelad2000 or FatCockStr8Slut?' All of them old friends. Actually, Mum and Dad weren't that surprised to see me. 'You'd gone quiet,' Mum told me, over a cup of tea in the kitchen. 'I knew something was up.' 'I don't exactly get in touch as often as I should anyway!' I confessed. 'This was different,' she said. 'Do you want a biscuit? I've got your favourites.' My favourites are Ginger Crunch Creams, of course. I'd forgotten all about them and suddenly wham, there they are, just when I need them most. I'm eating one now, sitting on my old bed, looking out of my old window. DulwichVillage. Dead centre of normality and peace. Where the net curtains twitch all day, where there are still red telephone boxes and milkmen. The place I waited eighteen years to escape. Well, another eighteen years on and I'm grateful for it. I can take all the peace it can throw at me. Only I had a weird experience at the library, and it rattled me. Mum had some books to take back. Margery Allinghams and Delia Smiths. I needed the walk, as the summer light died on the air and the green leaves rustled overhead. What, I thought, could be more normal, more calming, than the library. Dulwich Village Library has the atmosphere of a chapel. It has the serenity of an attic room. At six o'clock in the evening, when the heat of the day was at its highest, I witnessed an insane couple go to the Self Help section and begin heavy petting. I mean, I've seen some stuff. I've done some stuff. Going public was always a big thrill for me. How can I forget, for instance, walking along the South Bank at one in the morning and getting my knob sucked overlooking the river, a string of coloured lights overhead, and us in the shadow of a tree. Cruise ships slowly passing up the river, playing Ricky fucking Martin, and I'm living La Vida Loca myself with my dick deep down the guy's throat, his headphones round his collar. That's where the queers go, isn't it, that's where we do it: anywhere we like. But I don't think of straight couples doing it, and not in broad daylight for god's sake, and not in a place like DulwichVillage, where Radio 4 is considered slightly common. But there he was, arse like two bowling balls, arms exploding from his t-shirt. Reminiscent, in fact, of a cage fighter who's swallowed a rugby player, and his blonde girlfriend with her legs open for his finger. It was like they'd been specially cast to perform for us. It would have been rude not to look. In any case, I instinctively fell into the role of security guard. When the senior librarian running the library came over on some errand or other, I coughed as low and as loud as I could, in that universal language for 'Put your cock away'. The public pornstar glanced around at me, with an evil sort of smile. Then he knelt down, lifted the girl's skirt, and put his face right in there. The senior librarian actually spluttered when he saw it, and I'm not sure I didn't too. He looked at me, or up at me, of course. I smiled, sweetly. 'They're not with me,' I said, in that special voice we use in libraries. I wanted to hear the noises they were making together. I wanted to see how much further they would take this. I wanted to get my dick out and wank it. Jesus, it was hard. Like I'd starved myself for a week and then someone had just walked in with a big plate of steak. I checked nobody was watching, and slowly began to fuck the books at groin level, nudging my sweaty, precummy, nylon-tracksuit-wrapped cockhead in between the spines of hardback encyclopaedias. Just then I heard a sharp intake of breath, and my head whipped around. It was the junior librarian, a bloke in his twenties. He must have been sent over to sort out the couple in the book stacks, more's the pity. I would have liked the little fellah to have sorted me out first. He was much more my type than the steroid fiend with snake eyes and tight trousers. Textbook clean-cut straight boy: clean fair hair in a trendy yet somehow too-soft quiff. Not unlike Daniel Radcliffe in looks and demeanour. Nicely ironed polo shirt (pretty sure Mum did that for him). Slender and well groomed, a couple of colourful wristbands with charities and festival names printed on them. He'd just taken in for the first time the scene I'd been enjoying , and his eyes were starting out of his head. He'd never seen the like. God, but he licked his lips at the sight, without realising he was doing it, I think. He was so brimful of milky innocence, my heart leapt in my chest. He even gave a little embarrassed smile and looked away, busying himself with a carousel of cheap romances. What is the impulse in us to take that innocence and ruin it irrevocably? I turned my attention back to the boy and girl in their own little world, but my mind was on that librarian. I knew he was watching the scene. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he envying them? Nervous? Had he done something like that? Had he actually been with a girl? It was like when I used to watch straight porn, and I realised I was fantasising about the men who watched it, as much or more so than the guys who were in it. Had he watched porn? Did he like a wank? How did he look when he came? The man and woman were aware of him watching now. They threw him little glances. I looked to see how he was taking it. My dick had dislodged the books permanently now so that they gave me no purchase. I was well hidden by a Romance carousel and some magazine shelving. Keeping everybody very carefully in view, and hoping the police weren't actually on their way (ex-colleagues! fuck!), I reached into my trackie bottoms and put my hand around my dick. I gave it a slow caress. My knobhead was a sticky mess of precum and sweat. I withdrew the hand and, not knowing what else to do with it, reached inside my vest and wiped it across my chest. I felt the print of my hand on my tit like a warm, glowing smear of UV paint. My dick was crying out for some more, but I decided to play it casual. I wanted to see what the librarian did. I actually saw him, thinking himself unobserved, reach into his chinos and rearrange his dick. Hard-on. Bingo. I watched him walk back, hard dick tucked away so that nobody knew it was there but me. All I wanted to do then was put a hand on his chest and say, 'Excuse me, lad, I've got reason to think you're sporting a hard-on in public. Come on, then, let the dog see the rabbit.' I didn't want sex at that point. I wanted to awake something in him. He walked into the scene, as if it wasn't happening. He'd obviously decided on a softly-softly approach. He began slowly putting away the books. He was so near me, I could smell the styling mousse in his hair. My dick asked me to take it in hand again, and this time I obliged. I wanked as slowly as I could force myself, looking back and forth from him to the couple, my hand sliding all the way up to my balls, drawing my foreskin right back from my throbbing, slobbery cockhead, then slowly sheathing it again hiding it in my first, squeezing it with my index finger, as the couple played up further and further to their new spectator, and he pretended more and more that they weren't there. The girl was licking the guy's cock through his jeans, when the boy obviously decided he'd had enough, but before he could confront them, he seemed to look to me for strength. I saw in him then, all the desire he was resisting, all the lust he was forcing down to the pit of his soul. I saw how far he wanted to go with a girl like her, and I thought how much further I could take him. I tried not to register any change in expression as I spunked hard into my fist. As the cum dribbled through my fingers, I watched the most bizarre scene. I can't quite bring myself to put it down on paper now. I wonder — why were they there; how come it was when this lad was on duty, this perfect mirror for their dirty goings-on. When it was all over, I did my bit and defended him to his manager. I mean, a kid like that, against a beast like that, he did what any of us would do. And after it was over, I went to the counter, my heart crashing in my chest, borrowing books that I've already forgotten the names of. 'Are you okay?' I asked him. He looked wounded. He shot me something like a glare. 'I'll be okay.' 'That prick deserves to be picked up,' I told him, 'and I'll tell you from my own extensive experience, it's only a matter of time before it happens.' 'I'd like to be there when it does,' he said. 'You'll need to fill out a form if you want to borrow books today.' My hand shook as I followed his instructions. I could smell the clean, soapy aroma of his body, and dried sweat in his clothes and hair too. 'You're stronger than him in all but the obvious way,' I told him, drinking in his slender, boyish physique. 'Thanks,' he said, and smiled. 'I've always thought that was enough.' 'For most people, it's more than enough,' I said. He let out a long sigh, looked at the form, looked up at me. 'Thanks very much, Stephan,' he said, and extended a hand for me to shake. It fitted into my palm and felt almost weightless. I decided he might be offended by a vigorous pump, so I just squeezed it and smiled, leaving the library without any of the books I had been due to borrow. My heart went out to him like a ray of light. But when it came to it, I let the whole scene play out like I was watching on a screen. Why didn't I step in? I've spent the last fifteen years breaking up fights and calming down tensions. Why didn't I intervene? I think I knew, deep down, that I couldn't involve myself in that, whatever it was. It was too hot, too perfect, for all concerned. It was important for all of us. I've cum three times again tonight thinking about it. And I keep trying to see things from the point of view of Beauty and the Beast and am just left with mystery. What's their game? What were they trying to unlock in that beautiful young man? And did they succeed?
  20. Ophiucus Meets Alabaster

    Author's note: Hello everyone. First story on here. I was reading about the 13th zodiac symbol, Ophiucus "the serpent-bearer", and thinking about what a perfect overwrought-fantasy smut name it is. A couple hours later I had written this, and figured I might as well share. Enjoy I was sitting on the front porch of my cabin when he entered the clearing. Fuck me, he was a sight. I hadn't hiked into town in a few weeks and this beautiful specimen was just what I needed. A pale, shirtless giant of a man. He was tall, probably 6'7", broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. The kind of big-boned guy where his abs seem to suck in under his huge ribcage. His white-blond hair was cropped short, and ice blue eyes regarded me with a familiar hunger as he approached me. He wasn't hugely muscled, but had perfect proportions and was completely shredded. I admired the way he rippled as he walked, his muscles bunching and flexing under his skin as his set his pack down on the porch. His dark shorts hung loosely on his hips and no doubt would have trouble staying up if not for a lifter's ass that I knew would accompany his strong legs. I stood to greet him and extended a hand. He smiled dazzlingly to shake, offering a cheesy "Mr. Ophiucus, I presume?" His grip was politely firm, and I could feel the telltale callouses of a man who wasn't afraid of the gym. Striations appeared on his delts and pecs as he pumped my hand. Up close I could see his bare torso was hairless and glistening with the slightest sweat. I had a feeling he knew why I was out here, why I valued my privacy, but he was pressing all my buttons. Fuck, why not let myself have a bit of fun. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't get much company out here. What brings you to my humble abode?" "Alabaster. Nice to meet you. Call me Al. I've spent the last few months looking for you, Ophiucus, and well, I assume you know why any man would want to track you down. I must say you're much better looking than I'd hoped." It's true, when I first started using my abilities, there had been no shortage of takers. I couldn't help but flex my 19" arms a bit as his gaze travelled over my torso. I was shorter than Al at 6' even, but I'd worked hard to build this body, and even though my abilities didn't work on myself like they did for other men, I hadn't aged since my mid-twenties and my hard-earned physique never deteriorated from the peak condition of my bodybuilding years. His eyes meandered from my scruffy, handsome face over my thick, lightly furred pecs, down the central groove of eight abs on a 30" waist, down my adonis belt to hover over the obvious bulge in the sweatpants that were my morning attire. I imagined his pale skin against my sun-kissed natural olive and the beast stirred a bit. Al involuntarily licked his lips before snapping up to meet my gaze again, blushing and bringing out his razor-sharp cheekbones even more. Fuck he was a pretty one. "Al, please, come inside. We should talk a bit." We headed into the cabin and settled onto the sturdy sofa. "Well Al, what do you know?" His eyes brightened as he told my tale. "Thirty years ago, you just appeared. You're like a sex god or a superhero something, and nobody knows where you came from. You were given the name Ophiucus and fucked your way through the gay world. Your bodily fluids enhance men, making them bigger, stronger, and more virile. You were on top of the world. Until, they say, it became too much. Men were getting demanding, acting entitled to your gifts, so you left. You disappeared overnight on the anniversary of your appearance." He grew bolder, leaning forward. "The town nearby has an unusual number of very physically endowed men, and nobody there will say how they got that way. I had to seduce the grocer's son to get him to tell me about your visits to town, paying for supplies with your gifts and swearing everyone to secrecy." I frowned. "Don't blame him," said Al. "I was very persuasive." He began rubbing my thigh. "I grew up hearing about you, obsessing over the famous Ophiucus, hoping to meet you. You were just the first, you know, of the people with gifts. Although none have been as dramatic as yours." I had heard of others, men and women with inhuman, seemingly magical abilities. Mostly they went about their lives not making a big deal out of it. To be fair, most gifts weren't as fun as mine. Al continued: "After I realized I was like you, I spent months tracking you down. I would like to ask for your blessings, but just meeting you has been an honor. You inspired me to build myself up, to use my gifts for others, and I wanted to thank you in person. Being rock-hard to the point of near-invincibility has allowed me to help so many people, getting strong has helped even more." His giant hand was running up and down my thigh, stroking near my growing bulge, squeezing the thick muscle of my quads. As I felt my hard muscles dent under his grip I began to truly appreciate his moniker. "You're a legend out there, and the pictures don't do you justice." "FIrst, I accept your thanks and I will help you. Hell, I'll have fun doing it too. You're beautiful like you are now, and I want you to know that." He blushed again and smiled, but only nodded, clearly excited about what was to come. He was rock hard in his shorts now and looked to have a healthy endowment. "Second, the changes are permanent. There's no going back. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Third, I don't control the limit. Everyone has a maximum, and I can help you get to yours, but you need to accept that it might not be what you imagined. Can you live with that?" Al looked at me with hunger. He grabbed my arm with one hand and placed the other behind my neck, staring deeply into my dark brown eyes. His voice was completely serious. "It's a hope and a dream, but I'm an adult and I know fantasies don't alway come true. That one at least. But if the process of trying is as much fun as I think it's going to be, I won't be dissapointed." Then he pulled me in for a kiss. His lips were warm and smooth and firm. Fuck, it had been awhile. I leaned in, then lifted up and straddled his big torso, enjoying the hard body underneath me. I wondered how far the gift would take him. I ran my hands over his gorgeous chest as he felt up my hard arms and snaked his tongue into my mouth. I felt a surge of power as the gift began its work, sucking his tongue in and caressing it with my own. He moaned into my mouth as his body reacted, growing harder, the fire racing into his core and all his muscles gaining an instant pump. I squeezed his thin waist with my thick thighs and felt the muscles twist and strain as he embraced me, picking me up as he leaned forward and stood. He broke our kiss as he turned and set me on the couch, kissing his way down my torso, tonguing my abs and working down to my waist. His lips brushed my adonis belt as he grabbed my sweatpants and shimmied them down over my thick quads, admiring the strong calves and even kissing my feet a bit as he undressed me. My thick cock, already half hard and past the 10" mark, swelled across my right quad with the attention he was giving my body. This guy loved muscle, and I had plenty to give him. Al quickly shucked his own clothes and towered before me, pale and ripped and gleaming. His own considerable cock was 9" and dripping precum as his eyes wandered my sun-kissed body. I placed my hands behind my head and leaned back, letting my biceps bulge into gorgeous split peaks and shifting my eyes from my arms to Al and back. He got the message and dove in, kneeling over my legs and bending his long torso down, gently licking and kissing my bulging left lat, up through my armpit and working up past the triceps and over to my bulging bicep. Our lips met on my arm as we indulged in a three-way kiss: Al, me, and my straining 19" bicep. My short scruff and his smooth lips clashed on my peaks. My tongue darted out to meet his, reactivating the magic and sending waves of power into his body. Al sighed longingly as his body hardened and bulged yet again. His 16" arms were looking more like 17" now. His abs had taken on a deeper groove. His now 25" thighs gripped me tightly. Al reared up and flexed in ecstasy at his latest improvements. He sat his hard ass on my lap and I felt developed squatter's glutes dig into my thighs as he crunched a most muscular in my face. We were in mutual muscle heaven. I began gently licking his big square pecs, each brush bringing new muscle blossoming into being. The cleavage between them deepened as his pale pink nipples turned downward. When I was done with him he'd never see them again without a mirror. Al grunted and tightened the pose as the growth spread from the point of contact, every muscle bulging a little more as his pecs bulged under my administrations. A narrow groove separated the upper and lower pectorals as they took on a heavy, squared off shape, bulging from collarbone to the sharp swoop back to his ribs. I worked my way up to his shoulders feeling up his rock hard, expanding legs as I switched back and forth between striated deltoids. Al started groping my pecs and biceps and grinding his fat cock against my abs as his shoulders broadened and hardened, each head distinctly bulging now even when relaxed. I felt up his legs on either side of my own and enjoyed the growing muscular feast in front me. He completely coated my abs in precum as his fantasies about my famous body came true. Each of Al's shoulders jutted from his skeleton by inches, getting truly massive to match his fat pecs. My cock was now a fully hard 12" under his expanding ass, snaking past his tailbone and receiving the benefits of his thrusting against my abs. His athlete's body was becoming a true bodybuilder. Al threw his head back and placed an arm on either side of my head, enveloping me in his growing body. His neck widened and his thickening traps bulged as he panted and thrusted against me. His left arm grabbed my head and thrust me toward his right bicep, where I happily obliged, kissing and licking, biting gently as the muscle erupted under my lips. The triceps hung lower as the split peak of his bicep grew from graceful bulge to hard ball reaching longingly toward his clenched fist. Al rotated his forearm to flex the muscle under my mouth, pressing me into it harder with his other hand. After a few minutes and a few inches the left arm had a turn and the 20" right arm was the one gripping my neck, massaging my traps as I worshipped this pale god's growing body. Al met me there and we recreated the three-way muscle kiss. Our tongues touching sent another wave of full-body growth and he spurted a sticky glob of precum onto my stomach. His forearms hadn't lagged behind and the veined, rippling meat undulated as he clenched and unclenched his fist, pumping his arms up as the growth poured into him. The balled-up biceps looked like they were ready to burst his straining skin as we panted in mutual admiration. Once his enormous arms attained a beautiful 22" symmetry, we instictively changed positions. Al stood up and pushed my legs apart, then got on his knees on the rug in front of me with his back turned. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, feeling up his newly enlarged pecs. I tweaked his nipples and began nuzzling his hair, breathing heavily into his ears. His enourmous melon-sized shoulders rippled with every movement. I began kissing the back of his neck as he shuddered. His traps responded beautifully, mounding up a little more each time he flexed them for me. Each unflexing left the traps as large as they were before the flex, the traps mounding up toward his ears in freakish hills, bowing out from strong neck to freakish shoulders into convex muscular monstrosities. The ridge between his traps deepened down his back until it was a valley of cleavage deep enough to lose a finger in. Nobody had ever responded this well to my gift, and I was going to enjoy seeing how far Al was willing to go, to grow into one of the biggest men alive. I leaned back to admire my work and he obliged me with graceful flex, rolling his huge shoulders and making the traps erupt with power. I moved to massage his traps and neck, running my hands across our creation. His neck was wider than his head now. He reached for my hands and brought them to his throat, where a few twists of his head brought his thick sternocleidomastoids into sharp relief under my fingertips. "Shit" I muttered. He responded by bringing my left hand to his mouth and sucking on the forefinger gently, guiding my other right hand down over his massive pecs and pressing his back into my own thick chest. He practically purred as my chest hair scratched against his broad lats. The secondary growth had spread to the parts I hadn't directly affected, and the thickened muscles flexed against me as I scooted forward off the couch and straddled his knees on the floor with my own. I humped my fat cock along the deepening ridge of his back. My precum smeared on his body and his back responded accordingly. The teres rippled with growth and his lats began creeping out. His thick arms were being pushed out by the v-shape turning convex. Al writhed and flexed. His hand released mine. I brought my hands back from over his shoulders and began to massage Al's growing lats. He got the hint and stood up, towering over me once again as his pale back filled my vision. I worshipped his back lovingly, exploring the spinal erectors and lats as his back exploded in a new wave of growth from my attentions. His 23" arms would have a hard time going below 30 degrees now. I lowered down to my hands and knees and got to work on his calves. The split head bulged from his leg sharply, jutting inches up and out. Each lick and kiss brought more and more muscle into being. Al pointed his feet and flexed them for me, alternating legs until his calves exceeded even his monstrous upper arms as my magic worked them into 25" freakish mushrooms of meat. Even at his height they were monstrous, bigger around than they were long. Al's calves were as big as a big man's thighs, over two feet around of rock hard striated flesh. Satisfied for the moment with the freakish calves, I lavished his hamstrings next. I could hear Al panting, his huge arms lifting with each breath as his bulging lats forced them further and further out. His hamstrings grew and flexed and grew some more under my attentions, pressing into my face as my scruff scratched gently over his straining legs. His thick squatter's thighs had to be in the mid-30's by now, and growing steadily. I reached around and felt the teardrop quads overflowing his knees. I grabbed globs of the precum burbling out of my dick slit in a steady stream and smeared it onto his quads. They responded by fucking erupting. His legs abruptly shifted apart as his stance was permanently changed for the wider. I felt carefully from behind, groping around his huge thighs a I continued to bury my face in his grotesque hamstrings. I got a good streak of precum on his sartorius and felt the sash of muscle across his quads thicken into a bulging rope of muscle Al reached back and gripped his thick ass, his arms having trouble as his expanding lats forced them apart. "Please," he whispered, guiding me to his ass. "Please." He was in muscle euphoria, barely able to speak. I dove into his ass, licking and kissing across the giant, striated cheeks, tonguing his hole deep, nibbling on the expanding hard flesh and tight, muscular sphincter. His ass was everything a muscle enthusiast could want, the pale cheeks involuntarily flexing against my face as I drove him wild. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, ass in the air. He was huge, closer to 400 than 300 pounds by now. From between his wide-spread 37" thighs I could see inches thick pecs pressing into the floor. His dick was over 11" now and drooling precum on the floor. I scooted over to him and slicked my dick up with my ample precum. Time for the main event. His muscular ass had to relax before I could penetrate. Al psyched himself up for the huge intruder, grinding his big glutes along my shaft a bit before lining up and pushing back against me. My fat cockhead pushed in, ever-so-slowly sliding though the muscular tunnel and spurting precum the whole way, until with a pop I was past his sphincter. I was leaking precum continuously, lubing him up to take my monster and growing his freakish muscles. He pressed his arms against the floor and lowered his chest, pushing his huge torso back to fuck himself on my fat cock. Fuck, his arms looked like 26" now. The triceps never looked relaxed, huge horseshoes straining as his biceps bulged against the sickeningly thick forearms. His huge back was an obscene ocean of pale flesh. His traps were so thick they bulged out from the bottom of his hairline to his upper back with an inches-thick furrow between them. After a few minutes of careful pushing, I felt his thick glutes finally press against my hips. His sphincter squeezed the base of my shaft reassuringly as he scooted back and forth an inch or so to get used to the monster inside him. I reached out and gripped the edges his lats. Even bulging so far from his torso, they were inhumanly thick. I held on tight and began to slowly thrust. In and out, faster and faster. He wimpered as the growth worked its way out from his core, distributed evenly and pumping his insane body up even more. "Fuck," he said between grunts. "Fuck yes. Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck!" And I did. I plowed him harder, pulling back until just the fat head of my footlong cock pulled against his sphincher, then thrusting in again. Harder. Faster. I battered his prostate and stretched his tight, muscular hole as his body grew beneath me. My orgasm was building as my gigantic partner strained and pushed against me, his huge ass and hard thighs meeting my thrusts. I was just about to blow when he abruptly stopped. "Everything ok?" I asked. "Better than ok," he said. "But I need a change of scenery." He pulled himself off my cock, tenderly lifting his hole up the shaft until finally the fat, dripping head plopped free. Al stood up and turned around. I gasped. I hadn't seen his front in several minutes. His chest was beatiful, with a hand-deep valley running from top to bottom. His abs had hardened up into a brutal 10-pack, leading down to an almost sickening adonis belt. The bands bulged and writhed as his now foot-long cock bounced in front of him. It was as long as mine now, and even thicker. Al moved forward and manhandled me, laying me on my back with my arms over my head. One of his strong hands was enough to hold both of mine down as he positioned himself squatting over me. Then he reached down and guided my cock back to his hole as his knees stretched wide enough to keep his huge thighs from crushing me outright. His bicep and pec clashed as he lined up my cock and began fucking himself on me once again. Fuck me. His waist was still relatively narrow, but the bulging lats and bowling ball shoulders made it look tiny. His thighs were each coming to rival my thick chest. The pale behemoth began posing over me and massaging my body with his strong hands. He brought his 28" bicep up and kissed it, massaging my pecs with his other hand. He was in muscle heaven as he rode my thick cock and felt my hard body and his own gargantuan growing physique. As he groped me his pecs his biceps and pecs fought for room. He placed his bunched fists on his hips for a lat spread and his grotesque back muscles reached almost out to his elbows. He transitioned into a most muscular that redefined the words. His pecs bulged up and bumped into his chin while his freakish traps actually pushed his earlobes up. All the while his huge thighs pumped away, fucking my dick with his ass. "You're so fucking hot. Ah fuck your cock feels like it's splitting me open and I just want more. More!" He planted his left hand on the floor next to my head and groped my thick pecs with the right. I flexed for him and he groaned appreciatively, squeezing and pawing hungrily. I groped his thick arms, his biceps and triceps exploding from forearm to shoulder. His forearms were bigger than my 19" upper arms now, and covered with rippling fibers and veins. He rode me hard and I thrusted up to meet him, our sweat-slicked bodies making a meaty cacophony as we slammed together. I couldn't take it anymore. I erupted inside him, shooting rope after rope of hot cum into his hungry hole and sending him higher into ecstasy. His growth increased even more and his own orgasm came like a volcano. His cock blasted shot after shot, each one an even larger load than the last. Thick splattering noises filled the room for over a minute as his 14" cock blasted the huge overhang of his pecs with cum and it rained down onto my body beneath. I basked in the afterglow as his bulk collapsed onto me. Al's chest heaved as he caught his breath, rubbing the sweaty meat of his pecs on my face. His growth seemed to finally subside as the last of my cum worked its magic. I was still rock hard as we collected ourselves and he stood, sliding off my cock and coming to his full height. He was slightly shorter than his full 6'7" now as his legs had to be spread so wide. His 30" arms were resting at a 45 degree angle from vertical. His 84" chest flowed down to a ripped 32" waist. His body flared out again as his huge ass and 45" quads asserted themselves. His thick-jointed knees looked delicately small between those overhanging teardrops and the 31" calves that exploded outward in a bloated diamond. His alread single-digit bodyfat was now stretched over at least 200 pounds more muscle. His 14" monster cock was also still erect and thick as my wrist. Huge bull balls hung in his scrotum, pushed forward by his thighs. Al rubbed his hands indredulously over his awesome bulk, his muscles colliding as he bent and flexed. His pecs blocked his abs from his view and as he felt his ripped stomach his biceps and pecs fought for space and his lats prevented his elbows from coming too low. I stood in front of him and joined in the admiration. I ran my hands over the hard bulges of his serratus muscles and down his trim waist. His core was constantly tensing and flexing to keep his ponderous upper half upright. "Shit," I said. "Nobody's ever taken to it like this. You're amazing! Fuck!" "This is everything I ever dreamed of and more," Al said. He grabbed me by the hips and lifted me up to his level. I leaned forward over his pec shelf to kiss him deeply. We remained like that for a few minutes, two lovers enjoying the euphoric afterglow of a truly glorious fuck. His enormous arms showed no sign of tiring by the time he put me down. "How can I possibly thank you enough for all this?" He emphasized what 'this' was by bringing his arms up in an impossible double biceps pose. The huge peaks fought for space with his forearms and he absent-mindedly opened his fists and began stroking the cephalic veins with his fingers. I wrapped both hands around his cock and stroked the still-slick shaft. "I'm sure can think of a way."
  21. The Company Chapter 1

    The teaser is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13634-teaser-for-the-new-story-the-company/ The Company Chapter One "What is it like? The Treatment, I mean." The elderly man sat in one of the restaurants owned by Physical Potential Foundation, and felt embarrassed and exhilarated at the same time. A young muscle-god had decided to sit down at his table, which caused a wave of mixed feelings. The younger man had obviously been through The Treatment already, and his shoulders unopposedly claimed the space of the opposite seat, as they protruded out of the sleeveless plaid shirt. Several upper shirt buttons were unbuttoned, and revealed a pec cleavage worthy an ancient statue. Even if his pecs were hard as marble, they were far from as pale as marble: A bronzed, hairless chest teased the elderly man with its body heat and whiff of anti-perspirant, but the most amazing thing with the other man was his eyes: Although men built like him had the opportunity to behave condescendingly or smug, this man's greenish-brown eyes sparkled of fun and mischief, like sunlight through the foliage of beeches, reflected in a well. A smile, expressing relish, was upon his face above the powerful jaw and dimpled chin. The young man answered: "The Treatment is awesome. Some guests worry about pain during adjustment of their bone-structure, but you are given some sort of analgesic with the DNA-altering and hormone-stimulating formula. It will feel great. Don't worry, gramps. You will enjoy it. And you will have fun afterwards. Which option have you gone for?" The elderly man felt embarrassed again, and he could feel his willy awake inside his pants, hearing the description of The Treatment. His silvery white hair was wavy. His suit didn't look cheap, but it wasn't luxurious either. With his suit and tie, he looked slightly misplaced in the restaurant. Indirect daylight was admitted into the room, but the southern wall lacked any windows, and the air conditioners struggled. The walls were panelled, and wooden logs ran from one wall to another under the ceiling. Many of the other men eating dinner were dressed in black leather, and looked like the drawings he had enjoyed in the 1960s and 1970s. Other men were dressed in a way inspired by the army: Crewcuts, jarheads, camo trousers, dogtags. One or two cowboys looked displaced in the environment. Judging from the scents in the room, the preferred style of meal was steak, barbecue, grill. Although most of the dialects heard in the room came from one or another part of the States, the elderly man could hear the odd Canadian, British or Irish dialect now and then, and some men probably spoke with unidentifiable European accents. He had seen a, supposedly wealthy, Saudi arrive in traditional Arabian garb, and descend the stairs an hour later in tight denim jeans, sneakers and an expensive-looking slim-fitting t-shirt, and with a sturdy golden chain around his neck. One of the muscle gods was probably Hawaiian, and he guessed one of the pre-Treatment guests was a Filipino. "I have chosen Fountain-of-Youth and Option Two." The young man smiled, causing dimples in his cheeks, and the glittering joy in his eyes returned. "You will love it, I guess. You are old enough to actually have been able to meet Tom of Finland. Did you meet him?" The elderly man ate one of his fries, and smiled for the first time, though the smile was shy, and his ears became dark pink. Dark pink contrasted nicely against his silvery white hair. "I am not very experienced, I'm afraid. My life went by, and I didn't engage with the wider gay community, until very, very late. It took me a very, very long time to accept myself. The times were different." He fell silent for a few seconds, and then repeated: "The times were very different." His thoughts briefly drifted away. Memories. "Tell me. I'm curious. My great grandfathers died when I was too young to understand anything, but I have always wanted to hear more about the past." So he told him. The musty scent of an underground cellar, used to store food the first years of his life. Ice preserved under saw dust, but replaced by a very bulky and noisy refrigerator inside the kitchen a few years later. Bicycling as a child: Playing in the nearby prairie. President Roosevelt on the radio. Charlie Chaplin in the theatre. War news. New suburbs emerging. The outhouse replaced by an indoors bathroom with water closet, which was an improvement in the cold winters and warm summers. Magazines with comics or short stories printed on cheap paper, which aged quickly, and became yellow and brittle, and smelled dusty and funny. Meals from tin cans. Jazz music. President Truman on the radio. He didn't remember much from wartime. He was a teenager when the Korean war ended. There was something impressive about the veterans who returned home, but it had made him feel embarrassed. His family became wealthy enough to buy a car: A mint green one with large fins. He didn't do well in sports, but one of his best friends played in the football team, and protected him from bullying. His mother had been deeply religious, his father less so, but the entire family went to chapel every Sunday. Many years afterwards, he learned, that the chapel had been into social gospel decades earlier, and performed a lot of charity work in the past, but, at some time shortly before the war, a new preacher had arrived, and the congregation had taken a more revivalist turn. Lots of emotions during Sunday meetings, and bible readings from an incomprehensible translation. "God's own translation", as his mother had used to say. "Thee" and "Thou" and "Shalt". Especially "Shalt not". One Sunday after chapel, he had asked his mother: "What's a sodomite?" Her expression had become rigid and disgusted, and she had explained: "It's a sick and hell-bound man behaving unmanly and unnaturally, worse than a beast. Promise me to never, never talk about such things again." So he didn't. There was a lot of fear of nuclear war, and everyone feared the Communists. And everyone feared traitors within, like fags, who were supposed to be Communists, all of them. His parents had voted for Ike, and Ike won. "Ike was a war hero, and back then there was a realisation in Ike's party, that people of colour (as we used to say back then – I'm afraid that it doesn't sound polite today, but it was intended to be back then) still suffered, despite slavery had been abolished eighty years earlier. Ike's party was the party of Abraham Lincoln, who abolished slavery. The other party was frankly outright racist back then, at least in the south. The sixties changed all that in a way you youngsters don't understand. I voted for Nixon, because I sympathized with the civil rights movement, but Kennedy won. Must sound self-contadictory to your generation. Lyndon and Carter changed the party-allegiances in the south. Some people my age became beatniks. A few became hippies, though most hippies were many years younger than us. Some were drafted for Vietnam. I became an office clerk, and later an accountant." When rock and roll emerged, he had initially continued to listen to jazz music, but there was something dangerously rebellious and appealing with Elvis Presley. He spent a lot of time in the theatre, watching films. He had watched a film called The Wild One, starring Marlon Brando, and Rebel without a cause, starring James Dean (who wasn't much older than himself). And then there were a wave of slightly childish but entertaining films about ancient Greek heroes or ancient Romans: Hercules, Ben Hur, The Slave. Steve Reeves and Charlton Heston were big names back then. Since he didn't marry, he had a lot of time left for other things. In his leisure time, he joined the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, which engaged in a lot of beneficial charity work. It was important to him, to assist less fortunate persons. Once or twice a year, he took a weekend trip to a big city several hours away, and visited an opera house: The bombastic music of Wagner telling stories about hero-figures like Lohengrin, Parzival and Siegfried spoke to him. It was an age of soap, cleanliness, mild colognes and horn-rimmed glasses. TV was something new then. People met at home and played bridge. He had a guilty pleasure: He read and collected a magazine called Physique Pictorial. It was supposed to encourage physical exercise, but he wasn't the sporty type of person. Anything else than golf or tennis would have been unthinkable in the social class he had entered in his adult and middle-aged years. He wasn't sure if it was intentional, but some of the artwork in the magazine, especially by someone called 'Tom of Finland', caused him to feel horny, despite the lack of women in the drawings. The drawings only depicted confident and very masculine men, especially lumberjacks, bikers and servicemen. At some time in the 1970s, he admitted to himself that his sexuality wasn't mainstream, but according to all men around him, fags behaved like queens, and the things he enjoyed weren't queenish at all, so he didn't know how to understand the matter of arousal and pleasure. In the 1970s and 1980s, the art of Tom became uncensored and explicitly sexual: Tall, powerful men in leather or uniforms pleasured each other. He felt guilty and ashamed, and the young schoolboy – in his past – repeatedly heard his mother's words – in the past: "Never, never talk about such things again." Sick and hell-bound? But not unmanly, surely: The beefcakes surpassed his old schoolmates (who didn't play football or baseball any longer), the straight men in the accountant firm, the straight men in the golf course, his straight brethren in The Elks. And the men in the drawings looked like they had fun. Not riddled by guilt. Just having fun together. Ultra-masculine fun. Homosexuals became more visible in society. The Stonewall riots must have happened in New York in 1969, but he wasn't aware of it at the time, and in rural small towns a lot of things went on as they always had. After hippies came disco, but he preferred opera. The number of television channels exploded, and became incalculable. It was an age of synthetic fabrics and too much sweat. Preachers in the chapels he attended preached against the increasing visibility of homosexuals, and talked about cures and therapy. AIDS happened, and he thought that it had been wise of him to avoid sex, otherwise something terrible could have happened to him. He felt embarrassed, guilty, full of shame, that he enjoyed Tom's art, but he noticed that Tom made an advertisement for safe sex. After disco came heavy metal and electronic music, but none of it appealed to him: He stuck with jazz music and opera, but he would listen to Bruce Springsteen now and then. It was an age of sporty anti-perspirants and young people with sticky goo in their hair. The hairy hairdos introduced by The Beatles and the hippies became unfashionable, and civilian young men began to favour crew cuts (or modern hairdos inspired by crew cuts). An increasing number of young men began to exercise, and it became usual to see wannabe bodybuilders in the stores and in the streets, and he felt embarrassed when he became impressed by, and aroused at, the sight of twenty year younger jocks (or even thirty year younger ones). In the 1990s, the advertisement industry abandoned any regrets against showing male nudity: Actors and soccer-players began to sell underwear. By that time, he had become decidedly un-political. The Soviet Union didn't exist any longer, and any difference between the major parties wasn't obvious. Since he didn't have any children of his own, he took delight in spoiling his nieces and nephews at Christmas and birthday parties. One of them, Brody, returned home from university at some point in the late 1990s, at about the same time as he considered retirement himself. Brody hadn't shown much of an interest in sports in elementary school, but had later began to work out in a gym, and, during university years, Brody had achieved an impressive physique. Brody had visited his uncle one of his first nights back home, and brought a bottle of Jack Daniels. Uncle had preferred something some more sophisticated, and they had each shared one balloon glass of imported French brandy, before they opened the bottle brought by Brody. "Better enjoy the brandy with taste buds intact.", as Brody had agreed. He remembered Brody as a rather shy and frail kid in the 1970s, brought up with Sesame Street and the usual fare, but the young man who now sat in the other armchair was a confident young male with a powerful chest. He had left his leather jacket inside the door, and was dressed in jeans, a sturdy leather belt with a conspicuous belt-buckle, army boots and a snug polo shirt. Brody had brought two cigars, and, after small-talk about many different things, they had – somehow – floated into quite private and personal matters. Brody had come out of the closet to his uncle, and Uncle had fallen silent for a while. Then he had told Brody his own story, and Brody had been very supportive. By the help of Brody, he had taken a few steps outside his comfort zone, and he began to donate to gay-right charities. He had decided to attend a more liberal and mainline church instead, and found that environment supportive. He remained a member of The Elks and the golf club, but he had lost some of his old business affiliates. He felt too old to look for a partner, but he enjoyed when Brody invited him to meet Brody's gay friends. Some of the young men had lost contact with their parents, especially Dads, when they had announced that they were gay, and he became an Uncle to several of them. He couldn't believe his ears when same-sex marriage was introduced. It was a few months ago, when Brody, now a successful middle-aged professional, had a talk with him about The Company and The Treatment. "One of my friends in the leather-scene consulted that company. The Treatment they give is unbelievable. I will probably give it a try when I become slightly older. They give something called 'Fountain-of Youth', and it is allegedly just what its called. Even men of your age return from the centres looking like several decades younger. To some relatives, it is rather shocking, but I thought, that it would give you a second chance, or at least an opportunity to spoil yourself. You deserve that, uncle. I will pay a part of the cost if you have any doubts." His awareness returned to the restaurant table. He watched the muscle-god before him and ate a few of his, now cold, fries. The handsome young man listened attentively. "It is hard to understand how it was in the past. It gets better, doesn't it?" - - - It was the day after. He was scheduled for The Treatment. He had been introduced to Bill, his PT, when he checked in yesterday, and it seemed like Bill was one of the men in charge of The Treatment. Bill was dressed in tracksuit bottoms and sneakers, a snug polo shirt and a white lab coat, and smiled at him. "The big day has come, Mr. A. I hope you will enjoy it, and we have several activities booked for you in the upcoming days. We also expect our guests to have fun with other guests, if they so prefer. You have Fountain-of-Youth selected, I see. It's one of our popular choices, especially among men of a certain age. Please drink the content of this glass and change into rubber slippers and a dressing-gown over here. I will be back, soon." He looked at the drinking glass, actually made of plastic. It contained a milky, yellow liquid. He tasted it. Vanilla, covering some bitterness. He took a deep breath and emptied it. Better done with it. He removed his tie and shirt, undershirt and trousers. The air in the Treatment department felt warmer and moister than usual, like a bathhouse. He let his underwear and socks go, and put his rubber slippers on. He still felt shy and vulnerable, wrinkled and fragile, as he now was naked under the dressing-gown. He moved the curtain aside, and entered the Treatment Room. A jacuzzi was sunk into the floor. Equipment indistinguishable from a tanning bed hang from the ceiling rather close to the jacuzzi. A scent of essential oils, reminding himself of some cologne, steamed from the surface of the hot water: A scent like wood, nuts, leather and citrus. Bill returned. "Will you please enter the water, Mr. A. I have seen naked men before, you can hand me the dressing-gown. Step carefully, so you don't slip. Yes, like that." Bill helped him down the stairs into the jacuzzi. "Now sit in a comfortable position, Mr. A, and I will repeat the information. You have been briefed twice before, but we use to repeat, in order to remove any worries. The formula you drank will alter your DNA, permanently increase your own production of certain hormones, and, since you have chosen this particular option, it will also help your body to rejuvenate. The formula in the water will activate the formula inside your metabolic system, and you will be sensitive to the ordinary UV light of the same sort given in tanning salons. During one hour or so, you will be able to absorb the energy of UV light and metabolize it into muscular tissue. Most guests find the process enjoyable. While you undergo The Treatment we will play some music from the loadspeakers, if you want. Did you chose any particular music when you filled in your form? Oh. Wagner, I see. Prelude to Tannhäuser? Now, just relax and enjoy the experience. I will leave you some privacy. If you feel strange, please press the alarm button hanging from the ceiling here." Bill left. The illumination went soft and dim. The jacuzzi activated, and hard jet streams of hot water began to hit his tensed back muscles and other parts of his body. The loadspeaker began to play Tannhäuser. The UV equipment in the ceiling lowered itself and activated: A blueish-purple light. He felt warm and comfortable. Relaxed, yet with some traces of worry left in his gut. A shiver of anticipation. A wave of warmth coming from inside, rather than from the surrounding hot water. Another internal wave of warmth. His bicepses tensed. Blood rushed to his willy. His quads tensed. His chest felt more... more present, in a way, like he had never noticed it in the past. Brody and his friends called the chest muscles pecs. He had pecs, too. He remembered the pecs of his old friend who had played American football in school – he had attended his funeral two years ago. He remembered the pecs of the men in the erotic art he enjoyed. He touched his own pecs. He could feel them grow. Uhmmmm. Grow. Pecs. He fingered one of his nipples, and moaned. The jacuzzi began to feel smaller, like it was shrinking. Then he realized, that he was growing taller, and, in the moment he realized that, his willy hardened into something probably better called a cock. He caressed himself with his right hand, and moved it to his mid-section, and he could feel six abs forming. Six marble-hard abs, like the young muscle-god yesterday. The jet streams intensified, and he became acutely aware of his physical presence, the extension of his body, and the increasing size of his now POWERFUL muscles and the delightful awareness of his own MASCULINITY. He had to tense and flex his bicepses. His legs. His bottom – what Brody used to call glutes? His back felt different. He moaned again. And again, louder now. It felt... He didn't know how to describe it, and he didn't need to describe it. He was absorbing the PURE POWER from the UV equipment, and turned it into STEEL-HARD brawn. He moaned again and thrashed around in the water, experienced spasms of movement, of flexing, of EMPOWERMENT. The Wagner music repeated for the third time. The prelude increased into a crescendo, and in his mind his ecstasy increased into a prolonged indescribable state of pleasure. He orgasmed once, twice and again. The pleasure never ended, but returned ever again in even higher states of intensity. He was no longer aware of his surroundings. Everything that existed was the triumphant background music, the pleasure that consumed every other thought, and the overwhelming EMPOWERMENT. Empowerment! Empowerment! Emp... Oh my God! Uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu And the music climaxed too. - - - To be continued
  22. grUV

    So, this is my very first story. Thought I'd crack one out, while I'm waiting for my new job to start. Strangely it's more cock growth orientated than muscle growth, as muscle-growth was my original fetish. But there is muscle growth, and should it be worth continuing, there will be plenty more! So, please give constructive criticism and/or praise. Mainly praise. Basically just tell me it's awesome. But honestly, any feedback is appreciated, and should I have enough interest and then time, I may try to continue it. Title may be confusing: grUV - pronounced "groovy". Short for growth: ultra-violet. Which is a teaser for the basis of the growth. But enough waffle, here is: Chapter 1 Wow. What a night. I awoke with a slow grogginess that so often accompanies a night out clubbing down the bay with Dave. Thankfully we don’t have far to walk back, as he has a boat out in the harbour, docked out at sea. Nevertheless, the fact you have to use one of the numerous row boats to row out to it is always hilarious, especially when you’re as drunk as we were. “Ok?” What. I stared blankly, my eyes trying to focus, and take in what had awoken me. “I said, I’m rowing back into harbour to get some food for us all from town.” “Us all?” I croaked back. “Yeah, you, me and Brad.” “Brad?” “That guy I tried to introduce you to at the club. I’ve always said he can crash on the boat if he doesn’t feel like getting the last train back to his place. Looks like he took me up on my offer again, and rowed himself over at some point last night.” Dave explained. I had a vague memory of the cabin door banging open, and waking me in the middle of the night, and seeing a silhouette of a man, as he flopped onto some cushioning on the other side. I couldn’t remember meeting anyone specific at the club, we talked to a lot of people, and all I saw last night was a biggish shadow fall onto the bed near me, I couldn’t make out any discernible features. Nevertheless, I was in no mood to push for details, so simply responded with, “Cool”. “Yeah. He’s already up and gone for a swim. Maniac. Anyway, I’ll be quick as I can, but be nice. You were definitely too out of it to properly get to know him last night.” With that Dave went to the stern and hopped overboard into one of the two rowboats tied to his boat. I lay a while longer, grabbed a bottle of water, did a few stretches, and after a few minutes, felt well enough to venture out of the cabin and into the summer sun. I was just wearing underwear and shorts from last night, so I felt the heat of the sun immediately on my body. It was nice, but blinding. When my eyes adjusted, I looked out to the water, and caught sight of what must’ve been Brad swimming pretty fast back and forth. I took a seat at the starboard side of the bow, so I could face out to sea and watch him. After a few minutes he paused, and looked over to the boat. I gave a very unenergetic wave, but he responded, and began to make his way over to the boat. He heaved himself up onto the boat and for the first time I got a good look at him. The size of the shadow I glimpsed last night did not do him justice. The water trailed off his traps as his torso rose ever higher as he hauled himself up. He gripped the railings harder and pushed himself up, two triceps exploding to life as he did. He then swung a massive leg over the railing, and it landed with a heavy splash on the decking. He flashed me a smile as he began pulling himself to his full height. He had short dark hair which flowed beautifully into full stubble that lined his masculine jaw. His skin was a glowing olive, all of which offset a pair of blue eyes that sparkled like the sea that was still dripping off him. I watched a drop slowly begin descending from his neck. It travelled down the valley between two meaty pecs, and I continued to follow it as it meandered between his six abs. As it fell further, my eyes landed on his crotch. He was wearing just a red speedo. It was dark but shiny from having just been in the water. It looked a size too big for him, being quite wrinkly rather than hanging tightly on him. I assumed he was a bit of a modest fellow who didn’t want to draw attention, or maybe he lost weight recently. But I couldn’t dwell on my thoughts much longer, as he was standing fully upright now, had turned to face me, and said “Hey Stranger, the name’s Brad!”. I introduced myself and gestured for him to sit down just across from me on the other side of the bow. This gave me a great view of him as he sat down opposite me. He leant back against the railing, lying at almost 45˚, exposing his muscular torso to the sun. He brought up his left leg onto the cushioning and leaned his left elbow on it as he supported his head, commenting on how he was still feeling the effects of last night’s drinks. His bicep flexed and bounced up and down as he rubbed his head. His arms were huge, certainly the biggest I had seen up this close, I reckoned at least 18 inches. I empathised with his hangover, and we spoke about what we did remember from last night. He was quite a talker, but I was happy to listen. His pecs heaved when he laughed about the antics he got up to. The drips highlighted how defined and cut he was. I felt I was staring for ages. It must’ve been a while, because the sea water was beginning to dry, and left his body literally glinting in the sun. His speedos were also beginning to look lighter in colour, and I noticed also less loose. This caught my attention, but I wanted to be subtle. I kept directing open questions to him, and only answering with a yes or no to him, so he was soon lost in his stories again. I stole glances down every time he looked away, or closed his eyes to try and remember details of his night. I was right, his cock was definitely growing down there. The wrinkles of the suit began to disappear as a bulge began to form at his crotch. I could begin to see the shape of his dick as it slowly lengthened and filled the speedo out more. It also looked like his balls were expanding too, as the material of lower part also straightened out. As he rambled on, he continued to get bigger down there. His cock was lengthening and thickening; but now with the suit clinging relatively tightly to his new size, the material stopped any further advancement forward. I swear I could see the bulge kink and bend round as it still tried to thicken. This is when it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t getting hard. I theorised his genitals must have shrunk down a lot from his swim in the cold morning water. And now he was just warming up to his natural impressive size. However, the misshapen slowly growing bulge looked uncomfortable; and it must’ve been, as while he was still talking, he very nonchalantly pulled the waistband away from his body and bucked his hips. His cock lurched forward and down as it unfolded and grew into the new available space. As he let the speedo snap back onto his body, it now hugged a very impressive round sexy bulge, perfectly filling the perfectly-sized tight red suit. I figured he must be a healthy 5 to 6 inches soft, and pretty thick. Which was quite a pleasant unexpected growth from the initial practically non-existent bulge from his chilly willy I first saw. I was sure this was the case; nevertheless, I decided to test my theory. “How was the water?” I interjected when he finally wrapped up his current saga. “Not gonna lie mate, it was pretty nippy. Sun’s barely had time to warm it at all. Although an ice-cold blast does wonders for the hangover.” He replied. Well the sun had had time to dry him up nicely, and was now reflecting off the salt crystals peppering his chiselled torso. He was a sight to behold, and now that his crotch had stopped growing, I was finally appreciating the rest of him. And there were a lot of bulges to appreciate as they rippled from time to time soaking up the sun. “Why, you thinking of going for a dip?” He said as he stood up to get a bottle of water from the cooler Dave had on board. I watched as he rose to his 6’2” height. Turning sideways to walk across in front of me, I saw his big ass and quads tighten and marvelled as the big red bulge jiggled as he stepped. In profile it was clear just how sexily prominent his bulge was, its heft tugging on the material, showing it was in control, not the other way around. As he spun round to return to his seating position, again with one leg up, giving the bulge breathing space, I finally responded, “Perhaps I will in a bit. As you say, it might help with the headache”. “You a strong swimmer?” He continued. “Yeah, actually, in fact I was captain of my school’s swim team.” I said. “No way! Me too! Well when it wasn’t rugby season.” He replied. We began to converse about our various sporting endeavours at school. The conversation being much more two-way now that I wasn’t trying to ogle him. That being said, after several minutes, I did steal a glance down again. Seeing as he was almost displaying his bulge in that open position, it might seem weird if I keep avoiding it. My eyes quickly flicked back up to his, as I responded to his latest inquiry about which athletic events I preferred. My mouth ran off some generic answers, as my brain was pondering once again whether his speedo package was looking larger than before. I began stealing more regular glances. It was hard to tell. But when he went for a swig of water, tilting his head back, I decided to grab a longer look. I watched, it was hard to discern, but I swear I watched the whole round bulge slowly push the speedo further out as it enlarged. His head came back down, and I made sure to meet his gaze as he let out a refreshing sigh. Now, that I was curious again, I resorted to my initial tactic of getting him monologuing, so I could keep tabs on what appeared to be an ever-growing package. As he answered my barrage of questions, I was able to keep peaking down at his red speedo. I couldn’t stare long enough to visibly see any growth in action, but evidence came in another form. I started to note that wrinkles were beginning to reappear in the suit. Whereas before, the wrinkles suggested a speedo too large for him, these taut lines represented quite the opposite. Initially it was just two. Two lines stretching from each side of the suit to the middle, fading as they reached the flesh-filled pouch. However, with each glance, more wrinkle lines would appear. Four. Six. As the round bulge swelled bigger and pushed forward they continued to appear. Eight. Ten. Twelve! Again, as I was only glancing briefly, I could not see the growth, but on my most recent peek, I clocked that his bulge was almost in line with the end of the cushion now. There were soon too many wrinkles to count, and I noted that there didn’t seem to be any more room for more to form. Additionally, more of his legs were being exposed at the sides, as all the material was being pulled forward by the expanding bulge. He certainly seemed oblivious to all this going on, still chatting away about how much harder it is to play team sports outside of education. I didn’t know how much longer he couldn’t notice for though, the speedo seemed stretched to the limit. Then I heard it. It was hard to make out, as big Brad was still nattering on, but I heard what sounded like finger being dragged along the surface of an inflated balloon. I knew it must have been the fabric of the speedo straining after even more growth from his monstrous package. My theory was confirmed when my next cheeky glance down revealed that a space had been created above his muscular thighs where the material was now lifting away, pulled by what had to be about 9 inches of thick cock. I returned my attention back to Brad, had he not heard it? Apparently not, as he was still mid-sentence and continuing on like nothing happened. However, a few seconds later, I heard it again; and more prominently, as it fell between two words Brad was uttering. Brad continued speaking, but I saw a flash of shock appear in his eyes, and while talking he finally brought his leg down, and leant forward, trying to obscure my view of his bigger bulge. It worked briefly, my attention was now on his hefty pecs, making a muscular cleavage in this new hunched position, but I looked down again, and could still make out the bulge, which was now in line with end of the cushion on which he sat. Brad’s sudden fear and shift in posture must have meant he was aware of what was happening. I looked back into his eyes, waiting to see if he was going to acknowledge this weird occurrence. But he continued his story, finally finishing with a question to me. “Umm,” I murmured, then paused while I tried to actually think of what he had just asked me. But in that silence, the sound of the speedo stretching happened again. With no voice to mask it, it was clear, to us both, what had just happened. I looked to him, and we shared an intense eye contact, still in silence, still gazing into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a huge, loud and long, fabric-wrenching sound was emitted from his crotch as the speedo strained ever further. I couldn’t help but stare down, as I was now able to clearly see the dreamy round bulge surge forth and begin to overhang the seat. It was growing so big, stretching the speedo, making it paler in colour. “Umm,” I began again, “Are you okay?” I naively asked. Brad slowly and simply leant back against the railings, and spread his legs, allowing me a full unobstructed view of his almighty size. He then grew again. I was unabashedly ogling his growing crotch. The sight, coupled with the sound of the fabric slowly losing its fight to his beastly dick, was such a turn on. “Yeah, I’m very okay.” He replied, almost laughing “You okay?”. I leant back too, “Yeah, maybe too okay!” I joked as my new posture revealed my tenting shorts. Brad laughed. “I wish I had known you were gay, I wouldn’t have been holding back otherwise!” His words were followed by three short bursts of rubbery stretching sounds as the tip of his bulge juddered bit by bit closer to the ground. “Holding back?” I questioned, “Wait, you’re not getting hard right now?” Brad laughed again. “Does this look hard to you?” He said cupping his giant package with his right hand. The round shape and way the bulge moved as its huge size overflowed his hand told me he was indeed still soft. “N.. No.” I stammered, “Bu…but, how?”. “Well, I’m guessing Dave’s suncream isn’t as water resistant as it claimed.” I stared blankly. Brad continued to explain further. “It seems when my body soaks up the sun and makes vitamin D, well, it really makes vitamin D.” His emphasis on the ‘D’ was complimented by another audible strain from his speedo, as his cock probably entered double figures in length. “Basically, when UV light hits my skin, it seems to make another hormone, as well as vitamin D, that goes to my dick and starts to make it grow. My balls too. The more light, the stronger the sun, the more skin exposed, the faster it happens. So, on a summery day like today, when I’m wearing only this, and haven’t got any protection on, well…” He trailed off, gesturing towards the now pinkish tight speedo barely containing an ever growing mass of meat. It grew again, this time the straining noise sounded a little different, almost as though a few of the fabric’s threads were beginning to snap. The change in tone made the tent in my lap bob a little higher. Brad smirked as he saw my cock trying to grow like his, but failing. He adjusted his position, rocking his hips slightly, and I gazed in awe, as the huge soft bulge continued to jiggle for a couple of seconds, which then reminded me, “Wait, you said you were holding back? …What did you mean by that?” “Yeah, you’re cute. I was trying to not get turned on. But seeing as you like…” He paused, and I heard a similar sound to the one just before, as I saw his cock jump a little, “perhaps I should stop resisting”. Suddenly a big straining sound was emitted, accompanied by some definite tearing sounds, as I saw a hardening cock shape surge forth. I could make out the outline of what was cock and what was balls now. Both hugely impressive sizes. Brad grunted and bucked his hips, and I could see the difference the erection was making to his genital growth. His cock was growing far faster than his balls as he got harder. The thick rod was pressed up against the ever-thinning material, so tight that I could make out the patterns of the veins on his dick. Especially as they continued to grow from both his arousal and his unique UV-absorbing condition. Brad moaned as another bout of rubbery straining and ripping sounds emanated from his crotch as the cock tried to lift away from his body as he got even harder. It was beginning to throb, and each pulse was accompanied by a ripping sound. I watched in lustful amazement as I saw holes beginning to appear in the speedo to the left and right of this mountainous bulge. Numerous ripping sounds continued as those strained wrinkle lines tore open into holes, allowing the speedo more slack. But it still wasn’t enough, as Brad’s cock quickly grew to fill the extra room. He was getting so big and hard, it looked around 14”. I could see most of it, as the base was exposed as his cockhead had pulled the waistband well away, and the speedo was more holes than material now. It was throbbing fast, and seemed to struggle to make that final growth it needed to burst free. Brad put both hands on the railings behind him, closed his eyes, leaned his head overboard, and then thrust. I watched as the base of his cock thickened substantially, the swelling then spread in a wave up his shaft, finally reaching his tip, which thickened too, adding that little bit of length so that a huge pop was heard as the speedo disintegrated into shreds, and a huge thick cock slapped up against his quivering abs. Brad was breathing fast, and I was dripping pre, having watched that sexy spectacle. But it wasn’t over. In fact, I guess even more skin was exposed now to the sunlight, which would only increase his growth. His cock pointed straight up and was thick and rigid, now at full mast. But as I suspected the growth continued. I watched as his two apple-sized balls seemed to fill, his cock was nudging up a little higher with each throb, hard to notice, but I could see. And very soon it drew Brad’s attention as the head dug into his pec shelf. He opened his eyes and looked down. Acknowledging the problem, he sank back down onto the cushion, and grabbed his shaft with his left hand pulled it away from his body. Fuck he was thick, his grasp not even close to encircling his cock. He then looked towards me, and pointed his cockhead in my direction and asked, “Want a taste?”. I didn’t even answer but simply moved across to him, took his monster in both my hands and pulled his cockhead into my mouth. It was a tight fit, but incredibly arousing. I slowly pulled my lips back off it, wetting the entirety of the head. I then used my tongue to lick all over his slit and glans, while my hands worked up and down what felt like a telegraph pole. I then eased the head back into my mouth, and began rhythmically bobbing my head up and down. I could feel him sliding past on all sides of my mouth as his fat head pounded the back of my throat. God, he was filling up all the space in my mouth. I then remembered he must still be growing, despite me shading part of his body. I decided to pause and hold everything in place, just so I could feel this miracle. At first, I couldn’t sense any growth. But I moved my hands together so they formed a ring around his shaft, and soon I noticed how his cock was slowly expanding, as my interlocking fingers were being pulled apart by this growing man meat. I then realised that his cockhead was now at the back of my throat, not because I had gone further down on him, but because he had grown another 2 inches in length. I noticed he was getting much thicker too, as my fingertips finally parted. His cockhead was no exception and was pushing against all sides of my mouth, allowing no passage of air. This realisation was such a turn on I almost came right there and then. But the need to breathe triumphed, and I jolted my head back, gasping, while pulling his mammoth junk from my mouth. “Well, well.” Said Brad, “Looks like you are enjoying. Perhaps we should move into the cabin before I become just too fucking big!” And with a smug grin, his cock grew up to halfway up his chest. Brad grabbed it, and began angling it down. “Open wide!” I looked at him confused and scared. How could he think that thing was going to fit in my mouth again after it just nearly choked me? “Your legs, silly!” He explained as he squatted down and slid his 18” dick under my groin. He slowly rose, pausing as he began to take my weight on his thick cock. I saw his quads bulge with dense striated muscle. After all this focus on his growing dick, I had forgotten just how hot and muscular he was. His thighs pumped up and his abs tensed, and he slowly stood up with me supported on his cock, balancing with my hands on his bulging shoulders. I could feel another dark spot of pre leaking onto my tented shorts, this was just so hot; but thankfully Brad wouldn’t have been able to see underneath his big pecs. Standing tall, Brad’s body was now fully bathed in sunlight. As he began marching me atop his junk, towards the cabin, I felt the rate of his cock growth increase, as the log supporting me thickened and rapidly lengthened, splaying my legs further apart. I let go of one of his shoulders, and felt the cock behind me as it grew to 20” and then 22”, each pulse lifting me higher as it gained more strength to take my weight. We made it to the cabin, and everything stopped. Out of the direct sunlight, and so the UV, Brad’s cock finally stopped growing. “Well,” he said, “I’m yours.” I stared into his handsome face, and again saw a smug grin come over his face. He throbbed his mammoth beast, and the rising cock angle made me slide down so that I faceplanted into his chest and stabbed him in the abs with my own boner. “Ooof,” He reacted, “That’s quite the weapon you’ve got there yourself. How about you free him from his prison.” I felt the same way, so swung my left leg over his huge cock and dropped to the floor. As I did so, his cock, now unburdened, swung up and the tip was level with the base of his neck. Having quickly whipped off my shorts and underwear before Brad saw the pre stains, I spun round to take in the view of him again. Gigantic. Everything. Pure masculinity. I had to service him. I grabbed the hand nearest to me, and began feeling and licking all the way up his arms; my tongue and fingers caressing every groove between the thick cords of muscle. On reaching his shoulder, I turned to face him, and had to stretch to touch each shoulder with each hand. His cockhead was level with my face, and was almost touching my nose as his broad chest pushed it out. I tried to ignore it for now, instead sliding both arms down to his biceps. He responded naturally, and raised both arms into a double bicep flex. Big boulders erupted forth, they split my fingers apart, and I tried to dig in, but the meat was just solid strength. I let my hands wander down to his pecs, and like clockwork, Brad started bouncing them, and my cock bounced in unison, tickling his balls in the process. I looked down and saw them. They were like two soft bowling balls, dangling down, halfway to his knees. I was so intrigued, I started fondling them, not noticing Brad begin to moan. I bent down and began to lick all around them, supporting their hefty weight in my hands, and watching as they overflowed from one of my palms to the other. As I licked them from bottom to top, I let my tongue run onto the base of Brad’s dick. He let out a louder deep moan, causing me to look up. I noticed now that his nipples had become sensitised, having thickened up, and were standing out a good half inch from his meaty pecs. I couldn’t resist, I jumped on his right one with my mouth, and began teasing and sucking at it, while ran my hands over his cobblestone abs, still trying to ignore the throbbing pillar next to my cheek. Brad moans only grew louder, he was loving this, and as I switched across to his left nipple, I saw a bead of pre run down his mighty shaft. While nibbling on his left nipple, I decided to reach across with my left hand and play with his right nipple simultaneously. In doing so, my arm was pressed against his 22” cock, and I could feel each throb, and just sense the power in it as it constantly vibrated with pure sexual energy. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I left both hands twiddling at his teats, but began using my mouth to wet the beast before me. Round and round, up and down I went with my tongue, soaking his member, and causing Brad to start egging me on. When I was confident I had lubricated most of his shaft, I released his nipples and grabbed his cock with both hands, and began pumping his cannon. While continuing to wank him, I pulled the head towards me, at this angle, it was level with my mouth, and although too thick to fully fit in, I did my best to massage the glans with my lips. This was clearly appreciated by Brad, who began moaning and bucking. It was getting so hot, I had to pleasure myself too. One hand on my cock, the other on the largest one on the planet, while my mouth continued to suck its head. I accelerated the pace more and more, and more, until I realised I was close to cumming. “Fuck, I gotta stop!” I panted. “No worries,” Brad replied, “You certainly got me going good!” As I began to regain some composure, a thought suddenly crossed my mind. “OK, I gotta question… if it’s sunlight which makes… this… happen, then how come you don’t already have a cock as long as a road?” “Well, the effects wear off after I cum. I guess all the energy is stored as cum, and having it kept there causes my junk to grow. But once its released, everything returns to its previous state.” I must’ve flashed a look of slight disappointment, as Brad quickly continued, “But I never used to be this muscular, or have an almost 6 inch soft cock. Or even this tall. But a man gets curious; and I tried my own come once, and noticed it led to some permanent gains.” He said as he flexed a bicep up to my face. I grab my dick and slowly start stroking in response. “If you carry on as you did before, you might get a treat”. The idea that I could possibly grow larger, seemingly everywhere, was such a turn on that I was once again close to the brink of orgasm, and a large globule of pre emerged from my slit and ran down my quivering cock. Brad noted this and decisively spoke up, “Actually, I think you’ll like to watch this.” He walked over to the cabin door and stood in its entrance. I was wondering what he was doing, but then as I caught sight of the back of his hefty ballsack dropping down further towards his knees, I realised he was growing himself in the sun again. He was there for not even a minute, and then he spun round. Over 2 feet of thick meaty cock was advancing towards me, the tip bouncing around, now level with Brad’s luscious lips. He stopped inches from me. Bent his head a little down, and pulled his bloated cockhead into his mouth as much as he could. His lips moistened the slit as he used his bulging arms to forcefully pump the column before me. Brad began to moan as his actions became faster and stronger. I had subconsciously began wanking myself too. Brad’s eyes shut, and I could swear he was moaning ‘Fuck’ although his mouth was gagged by a head the size of a rugby ball. He let out one massive but muffled moan, and his stroking suddenly ceased. I looked down and saw his balls heave, and then watched his cock jerk as a torrent of cum ran up inside it and gushed into Brad’s mouth. The instant he began swallowing, I noticed him changing. I took a step back and watched as his whole body seemed to scale-up larger, keeping everything in proportion as he inched up, reaching now what must’ve been a towering 6’3”. He released his cock from his mouth, the spurts having finally ended, and I watched it lengthen an inch or two by itself so that the tip bumped against the bridge of his nose. I was on the edge, pumping like a maniac. Brad opened his eyes, saw me, and immediately placed his hands on his hips. And within an instant I saw his pecs puff out massively, expanding in size, weight and strength. His abs all swelled, fighting for space, and as he lifted his arms up and flexed, I saw his biceps grow larger and larger than before. His muscles were surging with much more energy than the rest of him, and that was my weakness. As his guns grew past the 20” mark, I blew my load and splattered his ripped torso, as his growth finally began to subside. We were both left standing there, catching our breath. I apologised for spraying Brad, and he laughed it off, grabbing a towel. I watched as he wiped my cum off him, and noticed his balls were back to normal, well maybe a slightly bigger size, but I had no reference point. His cock on the other hand was still looming towards me at an inflated size. However, I watched as it both began to soften and shrink, arcing down in the process. Brad cast the towel aside, and looked down at himself from his new height. After what I had just witnessed, his flaccid cock looked a sorry sight. But after glancing back at my own, and then back at Brad’s, I realised he must be 7 inches soft now! Plus Brad certainly didn’t seem unimpressed. “Fuck! Look at me, I’m massive!” He bellowed, as he struck pose after pose. It was true, his muscles had significantly grown. Dave might not pick up on the extra inch in height or cock, but Brad’s bodybuilder stature biceps and pecs were bound to give the game away. I wonder if Dave knows about this? “Damn,” continued Brad as he cupped his enormous left pec in his right hand, “This is incredible! …but we best get covered up before Dave comes back with the food.” I began redressing. Luckily the hot weather would dry my shorts out pretty quick from any embarrassing stains. I watched Brad rummage around the cabin until he found a pair of metallic blue speedos. He struggled to pull them up over his bigger legs. “Wow, I can’t believe how much my calves have grown. …Makes …this uuh..h. a bit difficult though, ..my quads too…” He wriggled about, his meaty muscles tensing and untensing in the process. They were just so big and defined now, I had never seen anything like it. Fuck I was getting aroused again. Brad eventually got the speedos on and over his genitals. They were super tight. And they made such a big beautiful blue bulge. It was shiny and massive, and I can’t believe I ever thought it looked small. Even framed by large cobbled abs and big quads, its size was unmistakeable. His thick 7 inch soft cock and balls already strained the material into a mouth-watering, big, round, shiny bulge. I couldn’t help but start boning up again. It looked so good. Brad caught sight of this, “Calm down now, Dave will be back any second.” I nodded, a bit disappointed and dropped my head. But instantly sprang it back up when I heard the now familiar sound of speedo fibres stretching. Brad was blushing, his arousal given away, and a glance at his package revealed some new taut wrinkles and a bit of delineation showing the outline of his chubbing cock. “No really,” Brad interrupted, resisting the moment, “let’s have you rub some suncream on my new muscles before I ruin another decent pair of speedos!”.
  23. Build-A-Stud

    Build-a-Stud was a new shop that opened up in the local mall. It housed all kinds of odds and ends for all kinds of tastes and kinks. Most of the tame stuff was out in the open, the more adult stuff was hidden away. This new shop was part of the Trucker Muscle franchise, so it became pretty popular in a short amount of time. "Welcome to Build-a-Stud, where you can become the stud of your dreams or make them into your dream stud." the large tiger attendant greeted the small blue wolf that entered the shop. "How may I assist you today?" "I'm here to pick up an order I placed last week, was told it had arrived." he pretty much whispered. He was shyly trying to avoid direct eye contact. "Ah, yes. Come with me for just a moment." the tiger ushered him towards the back room. "We tend to keep these out of sight, even though it's in a plain brown box." A few minutes later, the wolf was nearly skipping his way home, holding a medium sized box. He was already reading the letter that came with his package. "Thank you for purchasing the Fantastic Reality Package. In this kit you will find every kind of growth fantasy imaginable. From weight gain, muscle growth and hyper, you will find it here. The special latex suit is needed to make these fantasies into reality. Apply the patch of your choice onto the special square on the suit and enjoy the feeling as you transform into your new reality. Once the suit finishes the transformation, the patch will simply fall off the suit. You may remove the suit once that happens. Under no circumstance are you to remove the suit while the body under goes the change, it may result in undesired results. Under normal circumstances, you may retain some of the fantasy when the effect completely finishes after three days. Enjoy your purchase." At his house, he was instantly greeted by his large bull boyfriend. He instantly noticed the box. "So it arrived at last." he grinned. "Build-a-Stud does not disappoint." "That they do not. Even the ones in the store seem have used the services as well." the wolf held the box in such a way to try to mask his growing boner. "Okay so lets get this started." the bull grunted as he stood up to his full height. Pick up the suit, he tossed it over to his big boy friend. "You need to wear this for any of this to work. Then you get to choose what you want, they have a few patches to choose from. Do not take it off till the patch falls off." The suit looked like any normal latex suit except for something very obvious, it had an extra "sleeve". It was placed right where the crotch was, perfect for the bull to slide his ample cock and balls into. The wolf brought over several patches, they had a simple design to them reading each showing a big guy flexing as if they were for muscle growth "XL, 2X, and XXXL". A couple others were in there too, one showing a really fat person and one that simple had cock and balls on them reading "Hot and Heavy." Without thinking too much, he reached for the XXXL patch and placed it on the suit. The patch went right to work. "Holy. . . my body is getting hot and pumped, like one of my all-day workouts." he grunted. He began to sweat as he felt his body beginning to change. He couldn't help but started to flex. "I can see myself growing. . . it's really working!" As he watched, the wolf slowly walked over and began to feel up his growing bull. "Damn, it feels so real too. Wonder how massive you're going to get with that big triple extra large patch. . . you were already massive." the wolf noticed his bull's cock and balls also seem to be growing. "Fuck. . . even your cock is getting bigger." Panting, the bull kept pumping his muscles as he kept filling up and out. His body was packing on pounds and pounds of rock hard muscle, his cock and balls filling out the special sleeve. A massive wet spot was also starting to form. "So damn horny, was it suppose to make me feel like I haven't been milked for a week. I just need to get off." the bull started to rub his growing member. Panting and moaning as he brought himself to climax. As he came, his body surged in size, nearly causing him to fall. "The heck. . . I just blew up as I blew my . . . load." as he spoke, his voice now deeper, he climaxed again. The blue wolf noticed this and went right to the instructions to find out what was going on. Finding the exact patch, his eyes drew wide. Reading it aloud, "XXXL is the ultimate in growth packages. Not only will your muscles grow to tremendous sizes, but your package will grow as well. You will be incredibly horny and want to get off. As you do, you will grow bigger and faster. Enjoy the feeling as you cum and grow. Even after the patch has run its course, you may still grow as you cum." The big bull bellowed again as he came again and again. Muscles pumping him up bigger and bigger, he was wider than he was tall. His cock and balls stretching the special sleeve, cum dripping off the end of it, but the suit remained intact. "Getting. . . too horny. . . cannot. . . " he cums again, ". . . my body." he snorts and grunts as he struggles. "Got to get. . . out of this." "Don't do that, you have to wait. Taking it off might do something. . . to your body." the wolf rushed up. Mesmerized by the sight of his impossibly massive bull boyfriend and nearly hypnotized by his deep soothing voice. "You just. . . have to. . . enjoy this." The wolf couldn't help but began to caress and worship the growing mountain of muscle. The two of them enjoyed each other in the silence until it was broken by the sound of something popping. "What was that?" the wolf asked, while constantly rubbing the bull's muscles. "Think AC is on the fritz again." the bull grunted. He began to sweat. "It's getting hot in here." "Only thing hot here is you big guy. So big all over." the wolf went from rubbing the bull's muscles to patting his thick cock. He could feel the heat coming off of the massive tube steak. "So hot all over too." As the bull fired off another powerful blast from his thickening cock, his gut started to push out. "Ohhh, this doesn't feel the same. I can feel my gut growing." "Probably cause you have so much muscle, your abs are starting to push out." the wolf went back to tending to his growing bull boyfriend. The thick musk coming off the tube steak kept his attention there. Another pop and the sound of something ripping could be heard. The bull was the first to react. "Fuck. . . the suit is being ripped apart." As soon as he said it, he felt the heat radiated throughout his body. Before he had a chance to further warn his wolf boyfriend working his cock over, he felt his body starting to swell all over and started to cum harder than ever before. Completely unaware of what was happening, the wolf kept humping the growing cock under him. "Oh fuck yeah! Cum and grow, grow and cum!" he even started to rub and caress the growing gut that was slowly pushing him off the cock. The bull's growth slowed slightly every time he was cumming, but then sped right back up. More and more of the suit started to rip and tear. The bull was almost helpless as his beefy body was slowly becoming thicker and fatter than before. His cock and balls were the first to be free from the suit. His thick legs and chubby arms were next to follow, the torso just simply refused to break. Big sagging gut and massive moobs finally exploded free of the suit at which point the growth seem to stop. His gut so big that his thick cock was completely engulfed under it. "Damn you are one fat fuck now. Perfectly fat too. Time for my fat bull to get milked." the wolf quickly climbed up the mountainous gut of his bull mate and began to suck and play with his thick nipples. "Wha. . . ooh, that feels really good." the bull panted heavily. It wasn't long before the bull was cumming against his bloated belly. As he came, he lost some of his fat. "Fuck that felt. . . pumped. I think I lost some of my fat. . . keep milking me, babe, see how much of this fat cum you can get out of me. He didn't need much more than that, before he went to town. He sucked on one nipple while his other was being coated in thick cum. He was slowly fattening up as he drank in the thick nipple cum. The taste so addicting that he just stayed clamped on as he kept milking the bull for all he's worth. As the wolf grew thick and fat, the bull's muscles blew up as it seemed that he was getting stronger as he came. Soon the wolf was unable to get any more nipple cum as the bull's moobs were completely packed with thick muscle. "Now look who's the fat fuck now." the bull laughed, rubbing his mate's swollen ass. "Speaking of fuck, it's time to give you a bull ride." The bull's meaty cock was leaking constantly, acting like the perfect lube. As he humped the fattened wolf, his muscles bulged and tensed. He could feel his cock growing longer and thicker as well. The wolf was also swelling from all the pre flooding him. As soon as his climaxed, the bull swelled up to the point of immobility; the wolf fared the same fate. One packed with muscle, the other swollen with fat. "Damn. I cannot pull out. You're so tight." the bull huffed and puffed. He wiggled a little, only causing him to cum hard once again, both growing even bigger. "Fuck. . . I'm so sensitive too." this time the wolf wiggled, causing the same thing to happen. "Crap. . . don't move." "Easier said then done," the wolf snickered, wiggling again and feeling himself being filled again and stretched even further by the bull's swelling cock. "We have a few days before we, hopefully, return to normal." At first, it was easy to hold still, but as the hours rolled by the two couldn't help but fidget. Bigger and bigger they grew, the wolf was slowly being pulled off the growing cock in his ass. His progress of sliding off was held up by the wall, till he bursted though it. The two of them out grew the house, which allowed the wolf to be fired off the bull's overly thick cock. The two of them basked in the afterglow and the warm summer day. After three days, they slowly realized they were not shrinking. They were stuck being massive and immobile. Both were content and happy with how it all turned out. They been constantly flocked by worshipers and idolizers that want to tend to their needs. All courtesy of Build-A-Stud.
  24. Pistachio

    Hi, so I normally write outlines for fiction, but I've been itching to practice my actual writing on erotica. I'm still only experimenting with this short since I'm pretty rusty, so all comments and suggestions on the writing style would be greatly appreciated. I honestly don't know how to write erotica. Thanks, and enjoy (lol). — Pistachio — An Experimental Short Chris took the tumbler out of the refrigerator and let it settle on the kitchen island. “Finally,” he said. His heart pounded excitedly. He watched the pistachio-green shake defrost in front of him. He opened the lid and gave it a quick whiff, reminding him of chocolate, like was advertised. He licked his lips in anticipation. He’d spent three months preparing the formula and lost most of his savings. Being a college student, losing any more than $3 was quite a loss. Chris had spent $100. $99.50, to be exact. He couldn’t waste this. His boyfriend, Eric, called out to him from the living room. “What’s taking you so long?” he asked. “I didn’t know it took ten minutes to get a glass of water.” “Wait! I’m almost done.” “With what? What kind of complicated ass water are you drinking?” ‘You’ll see,” Chris thought. He took the tumbler with him back to the living room where Eric was lying flat on the couch, waiting for Chris to return. “About time.” he said. “Sorry, just prepared a drink for myself.” He placed the tumbler down on the side table. Eric’s eyes locked onto the tumbler. He wrinkled his brow and stared at Chris. “The fuck is that? Did you get your water from the trash compactor?” Chris chuckled. “Fuck off. It’s just a chocolate shake… that’s green.” Chris sat down on the couch. Eric crawled up and rested his head on Chris’ thigh. They looked in each others’ eyes and smiled. Eric pounded on Chris’ stomach and rubbed his hand across the soft fat. “Thought you were trying to lose weight and gain some more muscle, tubby?” Chris rested his hand on Eric’s sizable chest and wiggled his finger around his nipple. “I’m trying. I don’t want you outgrowing me so fast. You’ve been gyming for, what, three months?” Eric chuckled. “What about it?” “Dude, look at you! You’re already nearly as big as I am, and I’ve been going for almost two years.” Eric got up and sat on the couch, resting his legs underneath him. He lifted Chris’ chin with his finger and kissed him gently on the lips. As they maintained eye contact, Eric reached down and grabbed a handful of Chris’ junk. “Nothing wrong with that, though, right?” Eric smiled playfully. “Who said the bottom couldn’t be the bigger guy?” Eric said. Chris was speechless as Eric worked his hand around his member. He could feel himself getting hard in Eric’s soft hands. Eric tugged down Chris’ shorts, leaving him in only a shirt and briefs. “Oh, yeah.” He ran his tongue across Chris’ underwear, pushed out by his engorged manhood. The rough cotton travelling across his tongue. Chris had always been sensitive. He never needed much to get off, and Eric knew. Chris tossed his head back in pleasure, moaning with every lick. He looked to his side and saw the tumbler still resting on the table. He grabbed it and popped it open. Eric looked up and dug his hand underneath Chris’ shirt, groping Chris’ pecs. “Is now really the time?” he asked. Chris didn’t reply as he quickly downed a quarter of the shake. He closed it and set it back down on the table next to him. He exhaled, feeling the chilled shake travel down his throat. Eric got off the couch and on the floor. He opened Chris’ legs wide open and stroked his thighs as his hard-on throbbed harder in the tight underwear. Chris was feeling something he’d never felt before. It felt as though the chill of the shake was travelling across his body, numbing it down. “Is my big boy getting a little chilly?” Eric asked, still stroking Chris’ thighs. When the cold got to his penis, it began warming up. His entire body followed, and he felt his cock surge slightly larger. “Did your dick just get bigger?” Eric asked. Chris’ breathing was getting faster. He could feel the heat enter every fiber of his muscles. “Why don’t you–hnng–check it out?” He pulled down his briefs, letting his cock fly free. It emanated with warmth. Eric climbed up and grabbed it with both hands, immediately filling his mouth with nothing but smooth head. He licked around the shaft, knowing it was where Chris was most sensitive. Eric tried making eye contact, but Chris was focused on something else. Chris raised his right arm and watched as his upper arm slowly grew thicker, rounder. He flexed it once, twice, and with every repetition, his bicep grew bigger and higher. His raised his left arm and did the same. With every flex, he could feel the power in them growing more and more potent. “Fuck, are you growing bigger?” Eric asked. “Yeah, man. It feels so good.” Eric climbed up and began pulling up Chris’ shirt. Chris pulled his shirt back down, took Eric’s hand, and put it back on his dick. He squeezed his hand tightly and began using it to masturbate. “Fuck, no, don’t take my shirt off. I wanna feel this.” he said. “This is fucking amazing.” Eric said. Eric began licking Chris’ firm nipples through the shirt as his chest grew outward, filling his pecs and torso with pure meat. He took Chris’ growing arms and raised them to a double bicep as he dove in and planted his lips on Chris’ and his hands on his biceps. Chris’ arms were pushing up his sleeves to his shoulders. His biceps still growing at a steady pace. “You taste so good.” Eric mumbled. “Why don’t you get back down and keep sucking?” “On it.” Eric felt Chris’ cock smack his thigh as it continued to grow with the rest of him. Chris’ shirt strained as his chest and arms grew bigger and thicker. His lats pushed the shirt far out while his chest grew into two massive slabs of meat, quickly inflating. Chris’ shirt was being pushed out by his pecs that his cleavage was growing larger and larger. His pecs pulled his shirt out so far that the neck hole was being stretched to its limits. Eric was beginning to struggle wrapping his small hands around Chris’ growing arms. His biceps growing into hills. His chest, balloons. Eric felt himself being pushed back by Chris’ legs. He looked down and saw Chris’ legs jut out ever so slightly, as if he grew a few inches taller. His thighs continued to thicken and grow, and grow, and grow until they were as round and firm as steel beams. Every striation was visible. “Fuck, this is hot,” Eric said. “I feel hot,” Chris said. Chris’ member also grew in size, pulsing larger but never shrinking. Eric was having trouble maneuvering around his growing boyfriend. He was beginning to look more and more like a child trying to climb onto a growing tree. “You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Eric said. “Shit.” He sat in between Chris’ legs, trapping himself inside as Chris only continued to grow bigger, bigger than anyone Eric has ever seen before. Eric grabbed Chris’ shaft firmly with both hands. He squeezed the massive tool, growing it bigger and bigger until it looked as big as his forearm. Its head rose as high as Eric’s head as he licked around it. Chris’ shirt began tearing down the middle as his pecs grew into massive pillows, his nipples large and begging to be sucked. He flexed another double bicep and his arms tore around his sleeves. His shirt could barely hold him in. Chris was living in pure ecstasy as he grew ever larger, his ass sliding off the couch due to his increasing mass. He tried looking down at Eric but his pecs had grown too thick to see past. “Where’d you go?” Chris asked. “Still down here, big guy.” Eric could feel Chris was close to climaxing and stroked his massive shaft with both hands. His tongue went on overdrive, licking every possible nook of Chris’ massive dick. It wasn’t long before it spewed out massive dollops of hot cum, coating Chris’ massive exposed torso and legs, as well as Eric’s face and hair. It continued spurting until every last drop from Chris’ balls had been shot out. They both took a second to breathe and make sense of what just happened. “Fuck! Look at me, Eric.” Chris said. “Wait, shit, how big did you just grow? I can’t fucking see, there’s cum in my eyes.” Chris stood up, knocking Eric down to the ground with a swing of his heaving member. “Shit, sorry.” The smell of bleach permeated the whole house. He looked around the room and never felt bigger. His once loose shirt now looked as though a single stretch would cause it to tear straight down the middle. It was pulled out so far by Chris’ pecs that it only reached halfway up his abs. He looked down at Eric and nearly confused him for a twig. If they had looked like brothers before, now, it was like comparing David to Goliath. Eric tugged on Chris’ still engorged member to pull himself up, knowing it only made Chris hornier. He stood up on both feet and tried looking up at his boyfriend. Eric smiled. “I think I shrunk.” he said. Chris smiled and grabbed both his pecs, trying to cup as much of them in his hands. “Naw, man. I’m just so fucking huge.” he said. “I’m so big.” Eric tried wrapping his arms around Chris’ torso, but barely got halfway around. “Shit,” he said. “Your pecs are so fucking hard.” Chris bounced his pecs, hitting Eric. His penis throbbed against his abs, chest-level with Eric. Chris bent down and flexed his gigantic bicep across Eric’s face and licked his lips. “Suck it,” he said. The thick arm took up most of Eric’s line of sight. Eric tried grabbing it with his hands and felt small. He planted his face and tongue against the bulging bicep as Chris flexed it repeatedly for Eric’s pleasure. “Was this really all from that shake?” Eric asked. “Yeah, and there’s still most of it left.” Eric bent down and grabbed Chris’ throbbing cock and gave it a tight squeeze. “Why don’t we take this upstairs? Your brother’s still out, right?” Chris laughed. “Good to go again if you are.” Chris and Eric continued fooling around upstairs in the master bedroom, exploring Chris’ newly-grown body. The two eventually fell asleep. At midnight, Chris’ younger brother, Evan, snuck into the house, hoping no one was up. He was on his way up to his room when he noticed a green shake left unrefrigerated on the side table.
  25. The Antaeus protocol

    Preface Yes. It is another short story without continuation. There are other sorts of stories than multi-chapter ones. Yes. It is another one in an army setting, as so many other stories of mine. I repeat myself. Yes. It will be dark and dystopian, since this technology would always be abused, if it existed, which is a pity: I would have preferred a bright and colourful world of plucky, cheerful Captain Norways, Captain Luxembourgs and Captain Canadas full of high ideals. You have been warned. The Antaeus protocol He could feel the familiar scent of the hypertrophic solution. The odour made him think of wounds tended by iodine, swimming pools kept clean by calcium hypochlorite or chemistry lessons from school years, but, despite the similarities, the hypertrophic solution had a unique and unmistakeable scent of its own, and by now Sergeant Scott could recognise it anywhere. No one would say, that it smelled good, but, by now, Sergeant Scott had begun to associate it with Project Ultramarine, and most things with Project Ultramarine made him feel excited. Most things. He could vaguely recollect aspects of the Project, that didn't make him feel excited: The simulated interrogations, the simulated torture, the abrupt wake-ups at 3 or 4 a.m., but those things beside, he felt honoured, that he had been chosen for the Project, and he felt excited every time Doctor Ohm scheduled him for The Chamber. It was almost as something out of a comic book: Scott had joined the Royal Marines, been re-assigned to SAS, done well in things related to endurance, marksmanship, diving, HAHO/HALO and intelligence, but he was scrawny, and had weak results in anything related to heavy equipment. One of his superiors had re-assigned him to a top secret project: Project Ultramarine. Sergeant Scott had increased six inches in height and 55 lbs in weight – none of it bodyfat, all of it muscle mass. Scott felt like a different person, and he liked to be one of the chosen for the project. He wanted to serve in the armed forces in order to protect civilians, and Project Ultramarine increased his ability to perform his duty. Just a few weeks ago, he had marched with heavy equipment across the Cairngorm Mountains with a medium speed of 18 mph despite an intense snow storm. He turned around a corner. Brigadier Smythe-Fforbes had invited a handful of high-ranking officers, but it was not of Scott's concern to know any details. Need-to-know-basis. As usual. The scent of the hypertrophic solution was now mixed with whiffs of the dry air and scent left by anabolic radiation. Not exactly like the dentist's, not exactly like a tanning bed, but, despite the traces of hypertrophic steam, the air felt dryer than normal, and it tickled in his throat. He entered the Lab. Quite a few men sat on chairs or stood small-talking, when he entered. Doctor Ohm and Evans, the lab assistant, were the only civilians, and were easily recognisable in their white lab coats and black rubber gloves. He saluted and stood at attention. "Stand at ease, Sergeant!" Scott stared straightforward, but his enhanced senses had already identified an unusually high number of generals, admirals and marshals among the gathered men. For a few seconds his mind drifted – drifted back in time to his first exposure to The Chamber. Doctor Ohm had only exposed him to a low amount of anabolic radiation at that time, but, since it was his first bath in the hypertrophic solution, he hadn't known what to expect, and the experience had been overwhelming. The energy blast had hit him like a blow, and his wiry physique had began to fill out in a very pleasant way, that had taken him with surprise. He had become empowered, he had felt his strength increase, and the formula given to him 45 minutes before treatment had been released by the relentless onslaught of the anabolic radiation. After his first submersion in The Chamber, Doctor Ohm and Evans had permitted him three consecutive exposures, weeks of tests and evaluation apart. Doctor Ohm was reluctant to increase the formula, the concentration of the solution and the intensity of the radiation, and only increased them in small steps, after what seemed like careful consideration. Sometimes, Scott had noticed traces of impatience in Evans' face, but didn't give it much of a thought. He had also observed seemingly inactive lenses in the walls of the chamber – the radiation came from below and above. The Brigadier had been giving a speech, and Sergeant Scott's attention returned to the Lab. "And as you have read in the handouts, Gentlemen, the effect is very promising. Before we proceed, I will let you observe the test subject's present level of ability." The Brigadier waved in the direction of the weights. Scott had been told beforehand, that he should demonstrate his strength before the guests. Scott lay down on a bench, removed the barbell from the stand, and began to press the weight of 660 lbs up and down, up and down: Nine times. He could feel blood rush to his newly trained pecs. It felt good. He rose and stood at ease. The officers were whispering. The Brigadier continued. "As you may understand, this neglected branch of research is in need of further funding, and, as you have seen and read, the results are very promising. But this is not all. You will also witness the next step of the test subject's enhancement. Doctor Ohm? Mr. Evans? Sergeant Scott!" "Sir!" "Please proceed to The Chamber, Sergeant." "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Evans stood at the landing, and helped Scott with the facial breathing mask and the electrodes at his temples. Scott descended down the steps in the still empty chamber. Evans closed the lid. Normally, Scott would have undressed before entering the chamber, but, as he understood it, The Brigadier would give the guests a show, in order to ensure funding. The glass was too thick to allow him to hear all noises from outside, but his enhanced ability to listen would allow him to receive a few fragments, at least. The Brigadier gesticulated outside, and seemed to continue his speech. Doctor Ohm turned to the console, and Evans stood ready by the switches for the gas and the solution. A hissing sound began, and Scott eagerly inhaled. It had become better and better by each time, and he couldn't guess how much better it would be this time. A silent murmuring sound, he now was familiar with, grew in intensity, turning to a hum, and, as the murmur increased into a humming sound, Scott's anticipation increased, too: The anabolic radiation device was heating up, and he was soon going to be exposed to something, that would improve his endurance, increase his strength and enhance the size of his muscles. He swallowed. A whispering sound combined with a slight dizziness witnessed, that the formula was spreading in his body, and it was ready to react to the anabolic rays. The chamber felt dry, and the hair on his forearms bristled like the first time. Like the other times. Any second now. He swallowed. Unconsciously, he tensed his muscles in anticipation of the oncoming flow of energy, and his dick awoke inside his pants and camo trousers. He became acutely aware of his bodily extension: How his feet were enclosed by green socks and boots smelling of boot polish. His camo trousers smelled of moth repellant, and the olive-coloured t-shirt felt snug and tight on his hard and built torso. He could feel the pump in his pecs, from the bench press a few minutes earlier. The humming increased. So did his blood pressure. He wouldn't call it fright or fear, but each step of enhancement was a step into the unknown. He was the prototype. It hadn't been done before. No one could know with certainty, that each latest step was free from risk. Even if the experiments had turned successful in the past, the new factors introduced at this step could have unforeseen consequences. He ran the risk of bodily harm or even lethal effects, but on the other side, if it worked, the positive effects might be far beyond their expectations. He hoped, that Doctor Ohm knew what he did, but the almost exaggerated cautiousness, by which the scientist had proceeded during Project Ultramarine, comforted Sergeant Scott in his doubts: The Doctor didn't take any risks. Any second now. The breathing mask hissed. His throat felt dry. He swallowed. He could hear his pulse in his temples. His dick throbbed against the fabric of his pants. Evans had mentioned something about high testo levels. The Chamber hummed more loudly now. He braced himself. Then it erupted. The rays beamed through him, penetrating every muscle fibre in his body, and there was nothing he could do to protect him from it, had the effect been dangerous. But it felt good. He could feel his muscles react to the radiation, feeling more than pumped, sore and heavy and powerful at the same time, and he could feel the hem of the t-shirt slip out of his trousers, and slide upwards over his waist and belly-button, revealing his cobble-stone six-pack and his steel-hard obliques. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, and only absent-mindedly aware of the splashing sound of hypertrophic solution, that, with increasing force, began to fill the chamber. The t-shirt felt ever tighter, and the anabolic rays empowered him, more than ever before. With a yelp, he flexed his arms, and the short sleeves of his shirt ripped apart. With a moan, he did a crab, and the remaining fabric fell into the solution, tumbling around in the bubbling liquid. Though cargo trousers are supposed to be wide, the camo-patterned trouser legs could no longer contain his growing – nay, expanding! – quads and hamstrings, and the tatters, that once had been trouser-fabric was soon floating together with the former t-shirt. The Brigadier said something. The audience looked amazed. The level of the liquid rose quickly, and Scott felt relief, when he became fully surrounded by it, floating in the hypertrophic solution, that increased the effect of the anabolic rays tenfold, twentyfold. The boots felt uncomfortable around his feet. It had been a bad idea to keep them for propaganda purposes. They actually felt quite painful and too tight! And then his growing feet forced themselves out of the army boots, which sank to the bottom of The Chamber. Only his pants remained, and they were made of some sort of stretchy fabric, that felt comfortable against his bum and dick. Wet. Elastic. Expanding. Keeping his rod in place. Adapting. He was adapting, too. He floated with closed eyes in the warm solution, and he allowed his big, growing hands explore the slabs of power-beef he once had called his pecs. His shoulders were increasing too: Hard! Bulging! Still growing! Each one of the three shoulder muscles clearly separated – which also was true about the two heads of each biceps. He let his index finger touch his biceps and run along the separation between the two muscle heads. His palm squeezed his tensed biceps. It felt hard and good, approaching the size of a handball now. Size of a handball! His dick twitched. Size-of-a-handball-now! The liquid turned the thick glass into a mirror. He could watch his own reflection, and it amazed him, but the thick glass made it hard to hear what happened outside. He thought he could hear fragments of an argument. A few tumbling chairs? Raised voices? The Brigadier? One of the generals? Doctor Ohm? ".... No! Safety precautions..." And then gunfire. A few shouts. An unknown voice: "... proceed... ...increase... ...activate the Antaeus Protocol." "No! Not the Antaeus Protocol! Too dangerous! ... untested..." "... increase..." He felt alarmed for a few seconds, but then something happened. Something amazing. Something that defied all description. The electrodes used for programming of brainwave-pattern activated, and they activated with heightened intensity. It was not like any of the gradual and mild programming sessions he had experienced before. He was overwhelmed. The promise of mental and bodily pleasure made him eager to learn new abilities, and the Antaeus Protocol taught him to kill without remorse, erased his conscience and turned him into an obedient combat-machine. There was a second or two of hesitation and surprise, but the human instincts and hesitating conscience were soon quenched by the unbending and relentless Antaeus Protocol. His resistance was broken. He accepted the Antaeus Protocol, and, in the same second, the anabolic radiation increased in intensity. His eyes widened. His entire body spasmed for a few seconds. He could feel his cock rip the fabric of his pants apart. Testo levels! TESTO POWER! The surrounding hypertrophic solution bubbled intensely now, increasing the effect of the rising anabolic radiation manyfold. It went far beyond any of the earlier experiments, and Scott was now unaware of his surroundings, lost in the overwhelming experience of extreme, unlimited GROWTH. The unknown lenses he had observed before in two of the walls began to lit up, and flashed into life. The chamber, the liquid and anything inside the chamber were now exposed to two different types of power. The effect of the hypertrophic radiation was multiplied by the synergy of the unknown power. Scott's arms and legs thrashed around uncontrollably in the energised, bubbling liquid and his moans increased into bellows and roars: Bellows and roars of pleasure, bellows and roars of unbridled aggression and bellows and roars of a nameless ecstasy going beyond them both. He grew uncontrollably now, but he didn't want to control it. He just wanted more. He wanted all of it. He wanted uncrushable brawn and indestructible muscle mass. In the mirror-like surface of The Chamber he could see his physical appearance transcend all formerly known limits of the human physique. He must have been 6'10'' now, and he was still increasing rapidly in height. His muscle mass was like some unknown matter which was boiling over, but there was nothing random or deformed with his shape: The expanding steel-hard beef was shaping itself into the most well-proportioned and efficient icon of strength beyond strength, masculinity beyond ultra-masculinity. The gigantic shape of a titan emerged. A powerful titan bulging and throbbing of muscular strength. Scott felt the mounds – no, mountains! – that were the building blocks of his body, and increasingly more power was still ever crammed into ever fibre of his being. He could tangibly feel himself grow, and then he saw something, that looked like a liquid metal, like mercury, and shiny like a mirror, form around his body. He could feel the substance surround him and enclose him, and, when the process was finished, he felt entirely invulnerable. He felt indestructible, like a titan of yore. He was undefeatable, like Antaeus. Come hell or come high water, he would obey every order. He was the prototype of the Antaeus Protocol.
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